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Description
Dreams

I'm crying out, I need help.
My dreams. They hurt me. They scare me. They release me.
I've had dreams of death, destruction, whether it be o self or others.
I've dreamed of being both male and female, sometimes no gender at all.
I love to dream. I hate to dream.
Dreams take me to other places. Realms that would be otherwise non-existent.
I've flown to them, rode to them, I've been guided by animals like a lynx or a raven.
I've killed in my dreams. I've... ate in my dreams things that one would never eat while conscious.
I've loved in my dreams, I've longed in my dreams. I've been hope amid sorrow.
I hate them, I hate my dreams. They scare me, I don't want to have them.
I fear sleeping, because I know they will come.
They will hit me in waves, hurting me, haunting me.
Sometimes I wake up crying. Others, I wake up smiling.
For not all dreams I have are horrid.
Some are blissful, innocent and free.
They make me smile; kissing my loves lips.
They make me joyous; holding him close, hearts beating together.
It's the black dreams though I fear.
It's those dreams that I start out falling, failing, chocking or fading.
Is it my past that make these nightmares so hideous...
I don't know... I've had a dark past.
There's still part of me that's, awkward to say the least.
Part of me that feels like its ready to pounce.
Part of me that makes me feel that I have an inner psycho.
I'm scared of it, like there's two things inside of me.
My mind is an eternal battleground; the pull and push hurt so bad.
Yet, sometimes it doesn't.
Is something wrong with me? I hope not, sometimes I wonder if other people feel this same thing I do.
We all have our angels and demons I hear. Are these mine? Well, they scare me.
I'm afraid to tell anyone, because they will say I am crazy.
I don't think I am all that much. I still like what others like.
Maybe I just spent too much time alone as a child.
I remember talking to myself when I was a little kid, like I was talking to someone with a camera.
But there was no one really there.
I wonder about these dreams, do they mean something, or are they just there?
My dreams make me think about me a lot.
They control my mood somehow
For some reason in the past 5 years, I have come to the conclusion that somehow... many people will know me.
That somehow, I'm going to make my mark on this world.
That I am part of something way bigger then myself.
People have told me that my mind has amazing power.
That they can feel me thinking, which I am always doing.
People say, that I know exactly what to say to make them feel better usually.
People also say I can read them like a book.
I don't want to be known as crazy, that makes me sad.
Sometimes people don't believe me when I say I have had deja vu.
Sometimes people shun me when I say I "saw" something.
Sometimes when I start thinking out loud, I scare people... but I don't mean to.
Somehow what I'm writing is scaring me somehow.
It's pure truth and it scares me. I read it back to me and I, myself, think I'm crazy.
I don't know, maybe its just me.
All I know is that the human mind is an amazing device.
It allows something that no other animal has, and that's imagination.
There is no real epicenter for it in the mind thus discovered.
Maybe every bit of this is just my imagination.
Maybe I'm perfectly ordinary.
Maybe it's all... just, dreams.

Description
Dreams

I'm crying out, I need help.
My dreams. They hurt me. They scare me. They release me.
I've had dreams of death, destruction, whether it be o self or others.
I've dreamed of being both male and female, sometimes no gender at all.
I love to dream. I hate to dream.
Dreams take me to other places. Realms that would be otherwise non-existent.
I've flown to them, rode to them, I've been guided by animals like a lynx or a raven.
I've killed in my dreams. I've... ate in my dreams things that one would never eat while conscious.
I've loved in my dreams, I've longed in my dreams. I've been hope amid sorrow.
I hate them, I hate my dreams. They scare me, I don't want to have them.
I fear sleeping, because I know they will come.
They will hit me in waves, hurting me, haunting me.
Sometimes I wake up crying. Others, I wake up smiling.
For not all dreams I have are horrid.
Some are blissful, innocent and free.
They make me smile; kissing my loves lips.
They make me joyous; holding him close, hearts beating together.
It's the black dreams though I fear.
It's those dreams that I start out falling, failing, chocking or fading.
Is it my past that make these nightmares so hideous...
I don't know... I've had a dark past.
There's still part of me that's, awkward to say the least.
Part of me that feels like its ready to pounce.
Part of me that makes me feel that I have an inner psycho.
I'm scared of it, like there's two things inside of me.
My mind is an eternal battleground; the pull and push hurt so bad.
Yet, sometimes it doesn't.
Is something wrong with me? I hope not, sometimes I wonder if other people feel this same thing I do.
We all have our angels and demons I hear. Are these mine? Well, they scare me.
I'm afraid to tell anyone, because they will say I am crazy.
I don't think I am all that much. I still like what others like.
Maybe I just spent too much time alone as a child.
I remember talking to myself when I was a little kid, like I was talking to someone with a camera.
But there was no one really there.
I wonder about these dreams, do they mean something, or are they just there?
My dreams make me think about me a lot.
They control my mood somehow
For some reason in the past 5 years, I have come to the conclusion that somehow... many people will know me.
That somehow, I'm going to make my mark on this world.
That I am part of something way bigger then myself.
People have told me that my mind has amazing power.
That they can feel me thinking, which I am always doing.
People say, that I know exactly what to say to make them feel better usually.
People also say I can read them like a book.
I don't want to be known as crazy, that makes me sad.
Sometimes people don't believe me when I say I have had deja vu.
Sometimes people shun me when I say I "saw" something.
Sometimes when I start thinking out loud, I scare people... but I don't mean to.
Somehow what I'm writing is scaring me somehow.
It's pure truth and it scares me. I read it back to me and I, myself, think I'm crazy.
I don't know, maybe its just me.
All I know is that the human mind is an amazing device.
It allows something that no other animal has, and that's imagination.
There is no real epicenter for it in the mind thus discovered.
Maybe every bit of this is just my imagination.
Maybe I'm perfectly ordinary.
Maybe it's all... just, dreams.