Dream

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Death scratches my name on her arm with a rusted knife.

I close my eyes to see my fleeting life.

My body tired, my soul weak, and my mind a mess.

I shed my clothes to discover bugs eating my flesh.

I hear the screams of my family outside.

Never stabbed in the back, always in the side.

Seems as if there's a price for my hid.

To many enemies for me to hide.

Even when my close my eyes tight.

A target drawn on my forehead.

And it seems everybody wishes me dead.

But I'm still alive for some unknown reason.

But the hate for me grows with the changing seasons.

And it's only time when my ticket will be cashed.

And so soon I will be buried under ten feet of grass.

Life has been so hard.

My body lay covered in scars.

Each telling a story that I forgot.

But all leading to the time when I shall rot.

Sin is nothing more then a three letter word.

And God sits high upon his throne like a bird.

Looking down upon us.

As we all burn and turn to dust.

For hell is my new home.

A place to call my own.

These are the images and words that roam my head.

Thoughts spoken out loud as I lay in my bed.

Seeing my soul drift away from me.

Swimming through space like a dolphin in the sea.

And these are the happy thoughts I wish to dream.

Like back when I was kid dreaming hills of ice cream.

Instead of the nightmares that make scream.

Dwelling deep inside my very bones.

Trying to turn my heart into stone.

Images of beauty flowing from my lips.

Wishing I did not feel sheets, but hips.

Oh, how I long to find something.

Be it anything, but let it be something.

As time passes, I don't age like a find wine.

Crossing God's "Do Not Cross" line.

And I wish to be born again.

To start anew from this pain.

To once again have something to gain.

To feel the hot summer day cooled by the winter's rain.

Never to die on my knees, always on my feet.

To never taste bitter, but always sweet.

To scream at the top of my lungs.

To feel like I belong.

These are the dreams I wish to dream.

Instead of the nightmares that make me scream.

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YDDYDDalmost 20 years ago
Death dreams

I wish you could find some happier topics.

A poet needs to read as well as write in order to improve.

Read!

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