September 16, 2002

Posted: February 27, 2014 in sethlestath

Who knows how dreams are made of? To kiss a stranger as a friend? The worm of my mother’s arms? Having things that I don’t? Dreams are never be a reality. They say a dream are just dreams; and means nothin’. For me, dream may seem blurry; but sometimes it looks so real. I can’t tell the difference between them. Maybe I live at both places. Maybe the parallel world really exists. Maybe I left myself there accidentally, trying to find a way back. I don’t know what is real anymore. I cannot trust anyone; not even myself. But what if it isn’t real? Maybe it stills a dream waiting for me to wake up. But why it feels so real?

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