Nightmare and reality.
“All my life I had thought that
I had the perfect kindda life
Or as close to perfect as it got anyway.
I said I was blessed and knew it to be true
Till came a storm without warning
That ripped my fairy tale in two.
All my delusions laying shattered by my feet.
Too hurt and confused to cry,
Too hurt and confused not to try.
Did this mean I wasn’t blessed anymore?
Pictures, like appearances can be deceiving.
I want to pull the golden framed picture off the wall
And watch it burn while sipping hot coco.
I want to shave my head and join a gang,
I want to curl up in my room and hang.
I really want to escape from this torment.
So every night before I got to sleep
I pray that the next time I open my eyes
It will be to wake up in another time and place.
A place where,
My soul isn’t as fractured nor my heart as bleak.
A time when,
My smiles weren’t as forced and this house,
Was still my home.
But alas, every day I still wake up
To the sight of carelessness and waste.
Yes, this nightmare is my reality.”
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