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Melissa Lindstrand Poem
Time
The hands of time go on,
going deeper into a dream leads me
to a place where the meaning of time does not exist.
The deeper I go, the less I want to wake
reality is an unknown here.
The ghosts that linger within speak of something consuming.
"You will never be the same, turn back now"
Turning back is a struggle
going on is a luxury, to see the mists of fate
Never have I been more consumed,
being trapped within my mind.
To wake up, is a feeling that the world around me,
is no reality.
I died this day.
Copyright © Melissa Lindstrand | Year Posted 2014
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