Dreams

Oldie but goldie, Poetry

Every time I close my eyes to sleep,

The monsters in my head begin to creep.

No longer do I have any pleasant dreams,

Only dying people and their ugly screams.

Sometimes I wake up crying,

Sometimes I see myself dying,

Sometimes I can’t sleep for nights,

Each night, itself, is trying.

Every thing is normal, now to me

The things unusual before.

Sometimes I wonder how to get

The peace I had before.

Everything comes in bits and pieces.

Sometimes my heart simply ceases,

When I put it all together,

And iron out its creases.

I get what people call ‘premonitions’

Guilty of seeing everything is my confession.

Weaker and powerless I feel, each time.

Everlasting torture is my condition.

I am on the verge of breaking down.

I need someone to help me out

Of the misery I am in, when I dream.

Lying still peacefully. In dreams I shout.

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