The Film.

I’m living in a land,

of dreams and revery.

Of birds and bees and silly things that cloud my cluttered head.

But the daffodils are dying, the moon is hanging high,

my dreams are shifting into things, it seems to become night.

The shapes are falling inwards upon my troubled head.

My dreams of happy, pretty things are dying, quickly dead.

I’m troubled for forewarnings,

browsing through the depths.

I see them all come closer, this nightmare will not end.

I’m pounding at the walls, quickly closing in.

I’m stuck in a nightmare that seems to never end.

My mind has created sorrows, gruesome, and unkind.

Like a film across a movie screen,

it seems that i have died.

My Beautiful Zion.

I saw my death before me,

as morning has seen light.

my body lay forewarning,

of autumn’s sweet,sweet sighs.

it twisted in an awkward way,

lying so exposed.

as fate would have it clearly,

to tell a story more.

a girl of soft cried sorrows.

of mourning, but of night.

she forgot to tell her secrets

and kept them all inside.

so eventually they chafed,

inside her stone cold soul.

until a rash had begun,

thinning the poor toll.

then the tolls man was questioned,

by the secrets wits.

to let him out, about,

before he died of sick.

the tolls man was quite weary,

as the chafing wore him down.

so the girl let out her secrets,

shortly with a frown.

as they stared into her eyes,

the color of the sea,

they pondered what was wrong with her

and how to set her free.

all she ever wanted was her solitude and peace,

but her heart had been broken

by the looks for secrets released.

they stared at her in silence,

waiting for her help.

terrified of what she was,

waiting for the yelp.

soon she grew past tormented,

from all the glances on.

and there she came to lay in vain,

in beautiful zion.