Poem: My Dreams

[brianc]

Hello,

It's poem time yet again.

I hope you enjoy this poem as much as I enjoyed writing it.

My dreams seem quite unreal but yet steal the concept of my own mind seeing what inside.
Dreaming obscene visions as the scientists make their incisions.
I do my best to make my own chest and lock up all the evil inside like my mind is Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde.
Making everything in my dreams my own reality, forgetting about actuality  .
Killing my lyrics as I spill it out like the blood that haunts my mind deep down inside, while trying to catch a ride.
A ride to a new place, going about things at a new pace.
I'm stalking my dreams as I stitch them up at the seams.
At first I'm in the twilight everything seeming so bright but yet I fall into the darkness.
I try to crawl up from the pit but yet I'm force to sit and wait for an angel to come to get me, but yet they say they are the best of me.
I say test thee and they get beat while I'm set free, set free from the eternity in hell in my visions.
Making collisions as I'm still making in my mind of why I have all of these incisions.
I'm a test subject, but yet they not to expect me to deflect the force for I am perfect.
I spill their blood with my mind as I control them, memory at the base of my brain stem.
I wipe their minds as I'm using the sand of times.
Slowing down everything in my own space just to make a superior race.
Yet I'm not Adolf Hitler, but yet deem inside I want to kill her, make my own strand, just to create my own brand.
The brand of the new world, the world of what I see in my mind for my dreams I make them all blind.
Put a blind fold on, listen to my surroundings as the demons spawn.
I'm just in my own world stuck at the seams, this is how I'm haunted by my dreams.

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I work my hear and soul more than you know as I flow.

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Regards,
Brian Crowell