[Thank You For The Dream] a poem

Beautiful things are not always what they appear to be; but you can dream for abit, then afterwards,  dream they were & what could be if they walked this earth with life inside of them.

If a pulse can be felt,
then so too can be felt,
the coldness,
the nights alone,
beyond,
where so much misery
is left over it knows
no place to go

So it goes deep,
down,
burrowing to
aloneness

Dontrell Lovet't 

from, [Blotted Etches ]