My personal nightmare,
Every night,
I dream,
A twisting cold passage,
Countless keys,
To countless doors,
Frames of memories,
Of a happy time.
I run through the corridors,
Forever trying to find the door,
The door that leads to a long time ago.
My mother passed away two years ago when I was fifteen. Almost every night I have these dreams of her, so life like I think she's alive when I wake up. But she's not, and I experience heartbreak over and over again.
