Dreams

Sometimes I have dreams,

The dreams that scare me.

Those are the ones that hurt me,

those are ones that try to kill me.

Dreams are an escape,

the escape that I can not escape.

And when I do,

they aren’t true.

Some dreams make me smile,

which form a pile.

A pile of wrinkles

under my crinkles of unrevealed shadows.

Sometimes those smiles are of hate

which we all debate.

And that debate

circles back to hate

which forms our fate.

That fate of yours

makes others elate.

And we relate

because we retaliate.

And the circle of dream,

starts to beam again.

And then we dream,

we escape,

we smile,

we form piles,

we hate,

we see fate,

we elate,

we relate,

we retaliate,

we dream,

and we beam,

all over and over again.