Just a small poem about the nature and reality of a dream. 

 

A lingering thought between the pillows and beds,

Tucked away behind the sound of a snooze,

A dream is a vision that the drunks’ mumbles in their heads,

What may lay beneath the booze?

 

Many restless thoughts wrestle their way through with vitality,

These imaginations delight the masses in their glitter,

A dream is like a fractured mirror,

But that did not stop their endless theatricality,

 

May this dream keep whispering thoughts after the morning,

Still tempting people back to its embrace,

Even the whispers are just a forewarning,

To the reality that could be replace.