The Dream
My dreams are fake
But the realm exists
But where can i
Go and sleep
There is not peace in some ones dream
Some are sweet and some are not
How can i go to bed
When i know that soon I might die
In my dream i run down hills
I fall and roll to the ground
Where do i turn?
Where do i run?
But there is nothing
And no one around
And soon i see it
The end of my dream
I know it's the end
But i just can't wake
Soon this figure is so close
I feel its heat and smell of old
But something different starts to happen
The darkness turns to light
The smell of old
To smell of flowers in the night
The heat of hate
To the heat of love
And then this figure is all on light
What is happening?
What do i do?
Where do i run?
Nothing matters
I want to see
What happens in this world of mine
Is for me to know
Soon this figure will hurt me here
But no, not this time
This figure is an older boy
About the age of me
He looks so lonely
So out of place
what do i do to such a face?
But when he sees me
His face lights up
A smile
A tear
As he walk up to me
I know not what to do
But soon he's standing here
Right beside me
Leaning down i smell his skin
Leaning up i feel his lips
So soft but yet so sad
And so i wake at last
Hoping its done at last
The next two days i have no dream
So strange it seems to me
The second day it seemed
Somewhat out of place
The air is filled with that one smell
The smell of flowers in the night
This boy is stand out of place
On the curb of a bus stop
He sees me and smiles
and walks over toward me
And then i remember that
It was the Dream.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
