CEILING OR THE SKY
I keep having this dark dream, as black raindrops fall I am busy splashing around in an ink filled puddle;
A screaming voice echoes through each ear,
So now I am hearing double.
Dark angels try to pull me down, as I beg “please don’t cut off my wings, I thought I was born to fly”;
But the demonic dark angels show no remorse,
They just whisper out goodbye.
I am fighting for air as this thick black ink pours down my throat, slowly drowning my heart;
My mind becomes twisted as I wonder, is this black hole the end of me or just the start.
As the dark angels pull me deeper into this ink filled watery grave, I see a bright white angel swoop down and grab my hand;
Am I awake or asleep, I really don’t understand.
My angel pulls me free from the darkness, as the black puddle drains away just like the blood around cut;
If this is all just a dream, then why can’t I wake up?
A soft voice whispers, “I can give you wings, but you have to teach yourself how to fly”;
Just then my eyes flash open,
And I left thinking, is that my ceiling or the sky?
BARRY MOWLES ©2012