Somehow my past has been mirrored in my dreams. Casting doult on what truely is reality. Reality is not always what it seems. For lifes illusions come to call. Leaving you with a taste of a memory. Still lost along the way.Transformed by the fanciful dance of the mind. Who's dance has always been contained. Bound by the reality of a few.Transformed by death in a world born to die. Caught by the constant delibiration, of a world with a staff in their eye.So to what degree will I be satisfied? And when will I know if it is real, or a dream? Or just a reflection of what could be? A reflection of a dream.
Originally Posted On Site: 2009-10-26 18:06:11
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