swimming with horses,
running with dungeons,
playing with dragons,
hiding behind a fake forcefulness,
like a synthetical lioness,
that artificialness,
fake greatness,
fake lustiness,
fake lustre, lying on them
like a mattress, or
with covered up, less
than what really up to
in them minds

Moments are separated only by a mixture of hues.
Colours, spellbinding, fixating my mind on something else. Something new.
Bells ring out. The wind, it howls. The waves crash off the shore line.
The cold air creeps through the cold-bridge beneath my window, and slithers up my spine.
He said to hold onto these thoughts, these visions, and never doubt.
But, there's always a but, nothing stops there. That's what this is all about.
Something lurks behind all of those smiles, under that strength, that ability to stay calm.
It chases you, running around between those hues. Metaphoricalised. Causing the sweat in your palms.
And it haunts you in your day time. It robs you of your hours. Ones that could be spent in truth, but no.
You don't surrender up these thoughts. Why would you? They're doubts, they're lies. They are fear. That's why the hues still glow.
It pushes, and pushes you, until the hues are ceased of their beauty, leaving only that constant fear.
Fear, wilderness, stress. Your slumber is but comfortable. And once again you awaken from your nightmare.
It breaks into your hours and steals away your days. It conquers your rest. It darkens the hues, and leaves but light.
You twist and turn, you're struggling in the confined space in which you're in. Dark, small and tight.
The incandescence of light from the sky should illuminate the dark. I'm sick of the artificialness!
But I know for sure my words would only come out wrong if I confess..
I've decided to hide it away, the truth I mean. Although I know I shouldn't.
I know I could go on pretending forever. But, then again, I couldn't.