Dream A Little Dream -Prose-

The past is the past, but I look back in time and cry,

what could have been and what never was...

My little dreams were just seeds in the soil, 

yet to be watered and nurtured before they were scorched. 

That first day in the psychiatrist's office was the day a part of me died.

I tried and tried, worked and studied, but nothing could take me back to what I used to be. 

Or was that girl just an illusion? Something that never was but what I believe to be true?

One can never know when you see and hear things that aren't there on a daily basis. 

Reality is warped, dreams are delusions, emotions are volatile.

You are a mess.

I buried many things in the garden of my mind.

I lay flowers at the grave,

cry late at night when no one can hear me.

It's been 7 long years and I'm no closer to healing.

But Hope is still here, dwelling in my head,

beating in my heart.