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I've Been Dreaming

A Poem by Holly Morningstar

By Holly MorningstarPublished 3 years ago 2 min read
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I’ve been dreaming for a long time now;

I’ve not been sleeping, so I don’t know how.

You may believe me when I tell you this;

I fear so deeply not knowing what life is.

The rocky steady people at the bottom of the river;

They’re eroded in time.

But they’re not dancing on the ceiling, no madness in their feeling;

They’re just grounded and I’m

The seaweed spinning wildly, back and forth and roundly;

With just one root in the ground.

I’ll have to put it lightly, I guess to say politely;

I’m lost as much as I'm found.

And I’ve been dreaming for a long time now;

I’ve not been sleeping, so I don’t know how.

You may believe me when I tell you this;

I fear so deeply not knowing what life is.

Noisy minors don’t go mining, they spend all their daylight whining

About the crows near their nest.

And the crows are looking lively, they’re much stronger and more sizely;

But they’re just trying to rest.

One side has got to give in, with how closely they are living;

Someone will just have to fly.

Away from all that real soon, they’ll see a floating balloon;

That’s just my mind in the sky.

And I’ve been dreaming for a long time now;

I’ve not been sleeping, so I don’t know how.

You may believe me when I tell you this;

I fear so deeply not knowing what life is.

The space invaders plotting, when should they start a-knocking;

They’re anchored to the moon.

They’re waiting and they’re watching, from their spaceship of a lodging;

They could deploy really soon;

But they’re still holding all the pieces and they don’t want any creases

In the plans they have made.

They’ll wait until they’re certain to pull back that great curtain

And see me floating away.

And I’ve been dreaming for a long time now;

I’ve not been sleeping, so I don’t know how.

You may believe me when I tell you this;

I fear so deeply not knowing what life is.

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

Holly Morningstar

Dare I dream of a world where creativity does not illustrate the thoughts, ideas and dreams of the individual across the sea of the united, so its lessons, ponderings and wonders may not colour the many-shaded greys of an artless world?

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