To dream is a wondrous thing; do you dream of lost chances or failed romances, of future success or happy ever afters.
or are you that lost soul, who lets the darkness encroach, grasping a crooked claw around your slumbering throat.
with every shallow breath taken, your mind begins to wonder, to those frozen off edges of your sub-concious, as in the Arctic tundra.
as your mind begins to thaw, you see dark shadows start to animate, quivering souls and then, those lost years of your childhood start to ruminate. beginning to wrestle with long forgotten mistakes, you find your self trapped in an almost catatonic state.
finally you break free from the grips of your delusion, gasping for air as you wake in a pool of your own sweat and urine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem