Don't wake me
please
I want my own world
not your reality
Call me an escapist
Call me a coward
but quite frankly I'm sick of earth
like atlas when he held the burden of the sky
I can't stop myself from wondering why
the world is so cold
to the young and to the old
the young have to grow up so much faster
to survive and even then they won't have a chance to really thrive
And the old are out in the bitter cold be it from past injustices karma or just having nowhere to go

So when the lights have gone off
and the world has shut down
I hope a crying falcon can whisper my words
my dreams, on its crying breath
that I lived with honor and left my heart inside my work
And let my words and thoughts find a home with someone alone that reads and my ink stains give them what they need