Am I but a dream, tainted by life
destroyed by the knowledge, that I'm just- but a dream
that I can never exist, become what my heart aches to be
is this- the real me
I see this world from beyond themselves
beyond what is, out of sync and incomplete
and there is no similarity between my heart and this
life hides, avoiding me
Under covers upon my bed is where I belong
my head beneath a worn out pillow; my eyes closed out to the light peering in
and my mind occupied with thoughts, too busy to comprehend
my departure, my absence as a man
The Art Comet is a poetry and literature blog by Anthony Souls. Read quotes, haiku, poetry, commentaries, and more!
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