Sweet dreams are made of plastic
Made of plastic
All black magic
Plastic black magic
Sandman's got a thing for me
He won't leave me alone
Leave me alone
Leaves the dust of my demolished ambitions
On my eyelids
Just to harm me
And when the blood moon is half white
I'll float away to a land with two suns
A land with two of everything and everyone
So no one is truly original
No one is special
All they ever tell you there is "sweet dreams"
Eccentricity is in my blood
From suicidal paintings living on mansion walls
To one fowl move and my clothes have changed from jeans to hospital dresses
And if I conform to my past
The only form of sanity besides caged game rooms and disgusting pills will be sweet dreams
So
Do not blame me if I prefer the term
Sleep well
-
Author:
Lily Grace Pickett (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 16th, 2017 07:00
- Category: Sad
- Views: 48
Offline)
Comments1
Thanks for sharing FRIEND ~ this is a challenging poem ! It starts with the impossibility of Dreams and ends with the luxury and blessings of Sleep ! Perchance to Sleep ~ perchance to Dream ~ who knows ~ Yours BRIAN
Thank you so much! I'm so glad you liked it.
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