44.

Dreaming Dead



I stand up tall on a slipp’ry slope
A mountain made of desperate hope
There! You’re standing right before me
Yet, as ever, you ignore me
I reach out, but you’re not there
There’s nothing there but smokey air
I stand there crying. My hope subsides
I’m left to store my pain inside
The nightmare now controls my mind
As hope is left so far behind
The mountain crumples down to nothing
Washed away by tears I’m crying
Another day. Another dream.
Never-ending. Or so it seems.