The dreams inside my brain are killing me,
but still they are the sweetest sight to see.
I long to fall asleep and stay in bed,
to hide within the visions of my head.
I know no path to take to flee my fear;
instead, I know, that I must now draw near.
The way ahead is darker than the night.
The stars are gone; the moon has no more light.
My dreams are open veins of gushing blood,
and now I sink within their crimson flood.
Short Poem: Open Veins
Tale Told 