They Are Not Dreams

Poem By Perfect Fool

In the night
When I am alone
I see things
Things that aren’t real
Things made of shadows
They are not dreams

Somebody sits
Over in the corner of the room
In the dark
And observes
With deep eyes
They are not dreams

Shadows dance
Through my mind
In the dark
Thumping rhythmically on the floor
Of my head
My eyes wide open
They are not dreams

In my mind
Where animals pounce
On my distant thoughts
My shooting ideas
Clawed to pieces
By the creatures in my head
They are not dreams

The moon shines
Through my window
Into my head
Giving me a moment
Of clarity
But the clouds come and cut me off
They are not dreams

Dulled and subdued
My head lies in wait
For morning to come
When I have to think again
Of the monsters in my head
They are not dreams
This nightmare is real

Comments about They Are Not Dreams

LIKE the poem, i had to read it a few times, i cant help but think that theres truth in your poem, any way its pretty good.

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