Every day, I open my eyes, To the same four walls. To the same light through the window. To the same weight pressing down like stones. In my dreams, I was becoming something. Moving towards a well known shore, my hands building, reaching, shaping something that mattered. Now morning bleeds through the curtains, harsh and unforgiving, revealing to me the gap between what is and what's not. What's reality. What's an illusion. I've learned to live between the dark and dawn, A thin sliver of a place. Where purpose exists within my grasp, neither lost nor found. The cruelest trick is waking slow, those seconds where I still believe the life I'm building in my sleep might greet me when I stir. They say that time will teach me to accept what's real, let go what's not. But every night I close my eyes and try again, and hope, and fall.
um... idk what to say heheheh... trying to improve on rhyming- not in this piece tho- I need some ideas-
