It's only in my dreams that I say what I mean,
because I think too much when I feel too much-- or too little,
and I find myself forgetting how to breathe,
while I wander aimlessly inside a prison of dream.

Strange whispers follow me in murmurs down the hall,
and break the silence that has settled here,
the words are familiar but I forgot the song,
and, within these shadows and this maze-- I feel so small.

So, when there's something troubling about not knowing what to fear,
because dark things lie in wait at the edge of sleep,
and dust particles dance lazily in little, white puffs through the air,
a dream can turn from something sweet into a nightmare.

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