Waking Up

I once thought,

being asleep was a nice thing.

I could dream,

stay afloat in a world

of my own,

my eyes and ears closed

to what I only

liked to hear and observe.

But I started to

notice glitches in my

little world,

like when the

radiant blue sky soon turned

into a gloomy backdrop.

Other shadowy figures would

follow, turning my

vibrant fantasy into a

murky nightmare,

twisting the colors until

only a grimy residue

of misery remained.

 

Nothing was left for me

in this void;

I fall awake into a

world that never would of

welcomed me in

my woke state of mind.

 

Those dim colors still

remain, soiling the

environment around me

with bouts of rage,

ignorance, and

misunderstanding,

but I can now

wade through the troubles,

always extending my hand

to those who need a

little help waking

up.

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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