Eighteen Seconds Until Sunrise |||POETRY|||

Can I?

Reality is cruelty,

But I suppose so is fantasy.

What good is it to dream,

What use does it do to scream?

A world divided,

A pain still not subsided.

And even when I close my weary eyes,

I still feel the pain of his razor lies.

One day I picked up a knife,

I imagined ending my life.

I still see those dreams,

I can still hear myself scream...

Nothing is what it seems?

Nyghtmares are also dreams.

So if dreams can come true,

My nyghtmares can too.

Maybe tonyght when I close my eyes,

Maybe I won't I dream of blood red knives?

I cannot erase my crimson lines,

But maybe I can take back what is mine?

Can I restore a shattered innocence,

Even though I'm frightened by silence?

Can I?