Nightmares Of A Daydreamer

Nightmares of a daydreamer 

As he woke up,

his eyes were wandering:

"Wasn't it real?

The moments of bliss,

were all fiction?"

The shocking awakenings,

had become his routine,

No room was left in his heart,

To put some hope in.

As he saw his close ones turn rot,

he wondered if it was all planned,

As if the whole world was a tragic movie plot.

Despite his masculine face,

His emotions were feminine.

He sought kindness and honesty,

In a world which knew nothing of modesty.

The day ended, again in his bed,

he stared at the walls,

As if they were the eye-witnesses

of his soul flight to the Neverland,

where no pact could be broken,

neither man would be heartbroken.

As memories were floating in his mind,

he enjoyed the bitter taste of those moments,

like a mad man thanking god for turning blind.

He fell asleep once again,

may he be relieved of pain,

in a world of fantasy,

In which Dickens would actually say

"Never say never!"

As a fact, not a pulp fiction.

How could a man call what he saw, a "Dream",

as they would turn into envies,

wishes that were far distant from his claw?

Author's Note

Thanks for reading and commenting on this poem,
Nima