Poetry

Tinsel Dreams

Tinsel dreams float above my head
like butterflies in the spring.
No matter how high I reach,
my fingers never grasp them.
The darkness envelops me,
and I watch those shimmering,
happy things disappear.
Then, the nightmares begin.

© Sarah Doughty

For the #MayBookPrompts – Butterfly Effect

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17 thoughts on “Tinsel Dreams”

  1. A nightmare is only a nightmare until I wake up – then it’s called work 😉 Jokes aside, that’s a fascinating poem you’ve penned. It’s amazing what churns around in our minds just beyond our reach!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ugh. I want to give this a thumbs up & down simultaneously because I understand all too well. You rock! Hugs tonight. Hope this was all sorts of hypothetical shit…. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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