Distorted memories, But all were just tragedies. My mind was just full of fantasies, That didn't happen all through these years. Happiness that turned to tears; Hope that turned to fears; I wish I never woke up from this dream, And just stayed there forever until it dims.
Hiding how you feel isn't lying. In fact, for some people, It's a form of surviving. It may not be the healthiest way to heal; Ignoring the pain and feelings To the point It's not real. But do whatever it takes To see tomorrow.
The door in the attic is peculiar Sometimes I am lucky enough to find it cold And I will stumble inside and fall Far away from here It's like a dream, a new life You must look around and above you And then you will see it Above, up there, high, far away There it was, I saw the hole Through my fluttering eyelids it was always grey But when I say so Mother starts to weep uncontrollably From here I can only sit and watch and ponder Where it starts and where it ends And if there is a castle of wonder I'd like to see it one day Even if I am old and empty And I have lived forever Even if I am all bones and dust and dead But I'm still alive and my pulse is fascinating I stand up and run, maybe if I run fast enough I will start to fly Yet all that comes of it is a dizzy heart and burning eyes Sometimes, the Big Grey will ask me, "What are you searching for?" I don't know yet, I just want to see past the shadow What is it like, where dreams are told, Where dreams are sold? On the days that she sits me down And tells me what's real and what's not real I wish I could give Mother a dream too Because the lines on her face make her look so tired And that's when they start fluttering again Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. When will I know what dreams are like?
There are days when my emotions are a small gear being turned in my brain by a small man with quick ideas and a sole purpose to manufacture he goes away when rage comes to stay, the only true connection to my nervous system the most familiar face I finally spoke to it out loud I never learned love without pain or sacrifice
I picture the small man going on vacations these days I feel and feel and feel I am convinced this is the true nature of how my brains favorite number is 2 always loving both extremes boys who are mean and girls that just do not need me as much as men need me to be sweet and fill their shoes all shoulder and still nothing to cry on