Dreams.
A sense of illusion,
of dominating confusion.
Seeing what isn't there...
All expecting to partake
in the subconscious mistake.
Are we to be fooled
by the mind that has us ruled?
Or are we to split when at finality
the soul strips its originality?
Bodies cast aside amidst sobs..
when it is the soul that turns corpse.
Do you not question consciousness?
Are you not yourself a dreamer?
Or do you firmly believe in the banalities
of your everyday realities?
Awake for the stark reality
Comes whenst thou face mortality.
No tug of your blanket shroud
No wails from the gathering crowd
No shoulders to take burden
for Sleep is your final pardon.
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