I tie the nightmares together with little perfect bows, draping them around my mind trying to make it look pretty. My soul a flickering light always waning dangerously close to going out.
The nightmares are a road map through the tangled web that is my phyche. It doesn’t matter how pretty I tie the bows, or how elegantly I drap and place them the nightmares are still haunting.
Always creeping in settling places they don’t belong. My soul once strong and proud, is now jaded and cold. The only thing that makes it feel anymore are the nightmares.
The nightmares are starting to feel like home.