A Sleeping Pill

Disconnected verses and broken narratives,

All of which seem so.. comforting,

When put under the spotlight and made to sing.

 

Ironic how the words that mean so much,

Now seem to mean so little.

Ironic how the turn of the century,

Becomes the dream of the present.

 

The best conversations are spent on the mediums which,

Upon closer examination, manage to surprise.

These dialogues bring forth a tumult of expected revelations,

Upon the clearing of one’s conscience.

 

Enough: one declares.

Enough disconnected narratives and senseless crap.

A bigger heaven awaits a harsh reality that welcomes the sun-kissed glow of uncertainty.

A place reminiscent of a world once realized only in false ideals,

That, which we call: the dream world.

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