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

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