deepundergroundpoetry.com

Dreams

A tent flaps and waves,
Covering a skeleton of games.
Yellows and reds once bright,
Forgotten, frayed, losing light.

A creak of pain
Screams the old rides.
To long left to rust,
A plague of brown-
To spread is to die.

A sound echos through the maze,
Of lonely, twisted hopes.
The winds sound eerily of laughter,
As if the park can dream.

In dreams, become reality.

Reality, a forgotten nightmare.
Written by Karrabear (Question)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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