The Waterfall

I had a dream that wasn't a dream. Being but a child, who could discern what's what? The clever illusions of false truth snicker at my struggle to comprehend even today. Looking into my past I see what I do not know. Waking up in the late nights to the surreal world of magic as a child was but a dream? How do I recall what it felt like to reach my small hands forth into the night, To touch the beauties of a world I most certainly created? As life so cruelly plays out, nothing is what it seems. I feel the happiness of the magic that embraced me, And I feel the darkness of the unknown lurking, ready to strike out in my vulnerable mind. For where there is purity, there is most certainly evil. Born innocent, a child is introduced to the evils of the world through nightmares. They wade in the the sea of creativity, staining the water black, They overrule with their triumph in victorious waves of murky fear, the shivers down your spine. And they send those who were once happy down a waterfall into perpetual darkness.