A Dream that's Not a Dream
What is a dream
but a dream?
And why when I awake
can I still feel hands crawling all over me?
I see the face of a woman,
a woman not unlike me,
and I become afraid.
What if I end up like her?
Do the same sort of damage?
Sometimes I wonder if in my very soul
it will turn out
I’m evil;
if at the core I'll find it's black –
inky black like the infinity of pain.
I've tried to run from the creeping-crawling hands,
tried to pretend they didn't exist, and
I'm still where I was the first time
I woke up so fucking cold
from a dream that’s not
a dream.
copyright 2006 Katherine Andrews
