Difference Between Nightmares
I sit alone in dark familiarity.
All too often I find myself here.
Is it a dream this time?
Always seems to be a twisted fantasy,
Of lose and heartbreak.
Oh how I wish this time could be one of those dreams.
Because as much as I hate the darkness of my sleeping soul
I know I will awake.
I will come back into the light that is reality.
Saving me from myself.
Unfortunately this engulfing black was not created by my sick imagination.
This is the reality I once escaped to.
It has now been seduced and lured by time and your distance.
I can no longer wake up to my bright world of secure safety,
For now no sinister dream that I may manifest as I slumber
Could ever be as wicked as the hour of which I awake.
But why?
Where has this light,
This brightness,
That I clung to so tightly
Have gone too?
It was my warmth, and yet
I could not hold on to its dying wick long enough.
Here is no explanation as to why I was left alone.
All that remains now is a boy,
Who was once a man,
Sitting in a black painted room with no means of escape.
Tarring the hair from his scalp.
And just wishing he could tell the difference between his nightmares,
And his life...
By: Skyler L. Green
All too often I find myself here.
Is it a dream this time?
Always seems to be a twisted fantasy,
Of lose and heartbreak.
Oh how I wish this time could be one of those dreams.
Because as much as I hate the darkness of my sleeping soul
I know I will awake.
I will come back into the light that is reality.
Saving me from myself.
Unfortunately this engulfing black was not created by my sick imagination.
This is the reality I once escaped to.
It has now been seduced and lured by time and your distance.
I can no longer wake up to my bright world of secure safety,
For now no sinister dream that I may manifest as I slumber
Could ever be as wicked as the hour of which I awake.
But why?
Where has this light,
This brightness,
That I clung to so tightly
Have gone too?
It was my warmth, and yet
I could not hold on to its dying wick long enough.
Here is no explanation as to why I was left alone.
All that remains now is a boy,
Who was once a man,
Sitting in a black painted room with no means of escape.
Tarring the hair from his scalp.
And just wishing he could tell the difference between his nightmares,
And his life...
By: Skyler L. Green