Dreams Are A Bitch That Get Fucked By Reality

Up all day, up all night.

This is a lonely war that I fight

in my head, in my mind.

Shit, there is no worse kind

of regret.

You can bet

that any thought that scares me,

is worse than your worst nightmares

Feel that sinking,

hearts aren’t syncing,

I lay in bed thinking…

and I’m drinking…

eyes are blinking…

gotta stay awake.

Awake because,

even though the thought

of every fucking thing

I’ve done wrong is brought

down on me in my conscious mind,

I’d take that hell over any kind

of sweet release in a dream

where every bad thing may seem

to be better.

Why? Because I know better.

When that dream is over,

no matter how hard I try,

there’s nothing more than to wake up to hell again…

or die.


About A Poetic Paradox

Well I'm me and to write "all about me" in this tiny little box is pretty close to impossible. I'm bold, love bright colors, and I can be a seriously good friend. I love to write, it's basically my passion! :D Oh, and I know it may not seem like much, but I want to teach young children. I ADORE little kids. I never really made a blog before, and I even have trouble keeping up with my own journal, but I hope this works out well. (:
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