I'd rather stay awake

My mom used to say, Dreams are stories of, the unconscious mind. I’ve healed, Doctor I’ve healed, Mom and Dad I’ve healed, I tell everyone I see Dreams, oh conniving dreams of the wicked. You don’t let me forget, my past, do you? (will you please let me go?) Precarious stories, are what the mind sees A poignant character Heartless yet so full of heart And then the dreams show, The detailed past. (I’m tired, of this) Things I’ve done, Lost halves, Mistakes I’ve made, Words I’ve said, Paths I’ve crossed, Regrets, Oh the burn of, REGRETS, pain me one too many times. One can heal, doctor One can truly heal But these memories? Why do they glue, to me like I am, but a slave to the past? What else is a girl to do, But forget the repetition of the, dire, excruciating dreams? My past taught me how to, forget, And never remember. (I still remember everything, everything)