Waiting for a bad dream

No blood work
no incredulous screams
my life is a canvas
tearing off at its seams

it ends before it begins
in an empty box
I have already been in there
already ran out my clock

no tragic death
no loose ends
I hope for sorrow
for my joy’s misery never ends

when the imaginary knife
plunges through my fake veins
I pretend I have my life
well within my reigns

No broken heart 
that meets an end
with only the pen and paper
my imaginary friends

As a new night shuts in
brings a bad dream
and I wake up with a tired smile
for sometimes pain is better than it seems

3 thoughts on “Waiting for a bad dream

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