Dreams are like people,

cloaked in darkness,

and hiding behind

fragile masks.



In other words,

they are a reflection

of our secret thoughts and

inner selves.



And not just in the

dreams, but in the

nightmares

too



do we find our deepest

sadness, fear,

and even

desires lurking in the dark.



But even now,

for some unexplainable

reason,

I like the darkness.



There's something

unspoken about the

danger, the quiet,

the cold.



Something terrifyingly beautiful,

almost like

death,

but then again...



When the dreamer

dies,

*what happens to the

dream?