The dreams I have are just that: dreams –
True masters of deception.
But nothing’s ever as it seems,
And dreams are no exception.
The woman standing at my head
Is talking to my killer,
But I don’t mind my being dead;
It’s much the same, just stiller.
And, in my way, I’m happy, too,
That I can stop pretending;
In order to begin anew,
Each start must have an ending.
And so I stick with what I’ve got,
Whether I’m asleep or not.
Photo by Egor Vikhrev on Unsplash
