My dreams are always bright in color.
So real yet so impossible.

Sometimes I forget that waking up screaming isn’t part of everyone’s routine.
There are time that I don’t remember that my story is sacred.

It drags behind me like the bumper of my car.
I am a terrible driver. But how can I get better with so many bugs on my wind shield.
The more I try to wipe it off, the more smudge and confusing it gets. I’ve learned to drive without my eyes.

Without my eyes, I run every red light, crash into every stop sign, I often wonder how I haven’t died yet. Why can’t I be that blessed.

My therapist says to use windex. I try but sometimes the windex stops working. Why isn’t the medicine making me better? I can no longer wake from the nightmares but how does that help me?

Constant running. Constant screaming. Constantly fighting for survival over and over again, sleep is my unwavering enemy.

Prison does not save a victim. When you took part of me, you left a piece of you and I hate myself because I can’t burn it out of my skin. No amount of bleach can cleanse you from my veins.

The water that pours from my blind eyes does not  erase you from my soul. oh how sad that is.

Once I was just me.
Now my dreams spell  WE.