Wednesday, November 24, 2004 :::
Bad Dreams on Bad Days
Burnt and hurt I need to scream
It feels too real to be a dream
I spin and sway and walk away,
And try to cry, but can't today.
It feels surreal, I need to heal,
The hurt that grinds my mind to dust.
The tears of fear that turn to rust.
Now something snaps and I collapse,
My sanity seems set to lapse.
I see myself from far above,
I can't see anything to love,
Or any reason left to move.
But then I'm back and life's less black,
And it was just a panic attack.
So I remember the things that carry me through
A photograph, an old toy rat, and memories of you.
- Dylan Clarke
::: posted by Tranxenne at 3:36 PM

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