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Literature Text
A white, dead face meets me by the door
I’m in a place I’ve never been before
A doll’s house with a garden so sweet
Bunnies jumping, white and petite
She invites me in to play
But I say I cannot stay
I no longer play with dolls
And I watch as her smile falls
She takes me by the hand
‘A tea party I have planned
Now come along and drink with me’
And I can do nothing but agree
I drink one cup, but that is it
I’m feeling restless where I sit
I reach for the door
But it is no more
A small hole it has become
Just large enough for my thumb
But I am wrong, for my finger is stuck
This seems to be a dream of very bad luck
‘I will help you, just hold still’
I feel certain, my thumb she’ll kill
For she is holding a small, sharp knife
And with it I think she’ll end my life
But in a second it is over, once again we drink tea
My hand is bandaged and bloody, but at least I am free
Out in the garden I watch the bunnies eat
I pick one up, for it is just too sweet
But it drops its head for it did not want to cuddle
It continues to eat while I stand in a bloody puddle
I’m holding the body as the head eats
I know it is alive for the heart still beats
But the others have gathered around my feet
Smelling the blood they have come for a treat
All lead by the nose
They nibble at my toes
I wish I had a gun
And then I start to run
Into the forest I leap
I don’t think I’m asleep
She follows me with tiny doll shoes
I fall and feel my knees start to bruise
I’m trapped in something that smells very nice
I wriggle, but I’m lifted off the ground in a trice
Wrapped in roses, I see her grin
Needles are sinking into my skin
‘You never play with me anymore
I just sit on the shelf watching you snore
But this dream is mine and if you ever awake
I’ll come back next night, make no mistake’
She opens her mouth wide open as if to shout
But instead a waterfall of blood comes out
The red sea is rising, thick and hot
I want this dream to end but it will not
It is hot, red, I’m choking, sinking
I try not to swallow, but I find myself drinking
The last thing I see is the eyes of the doll
That I have barely ever played with at all
I sit up straight in my bed, heart beating fast and I see
On the shelf across the room she sits, just waiting for me
She is smiling, for we know for sure
That tomorrow night she will visit once more
I’m in a place I’ve never been before
A doll’s house with a garden so sweet
Bunnies jumping, white and petite
She invites me in to play
But I say I cannot stay
I no longer play with dolls
And I watch as her smile falls
She takes me by the hand
‘A tea party I have planned
Now come along and drink with me’
And I can do nothing but agree
I drink one cup, but that is it
I’m feeling restless where I sit
I reach for the door
But it is no more
A small hole it has become
Just large enough for my thumb
But I am wrong, for my finger is stuck
This seems to be a dream of very bad luck
‘I will help you, just hold still’
I feel certain, my thumb she’ll kill
For she is holding a small, sharp knife
And with it I think she’ll end my life
But in a second it is over, once again we drink tea
My hand is bandaged and bloody, but at least I am free
Out in the garden I watch the bunnies eat
I pick one up, for it is just too sweet
But it drops its head for it did not want to cuddle
It continues to eat while I stand in a bloody puddle
I’m holding the body as the head eats
I know it is alive for the heart still beats
But the others have gathered around my feet
Smelling the blood they have come for a treat
All lead by the nose
They nibble at my toes
I wish I had a gun
And then I start to run
Into the forest I leap
I don’t think I’m asleep
She follows me with tiny doll shoes
I fall and feel my knees start to bruise
I’m trapped in something that smells very nice
I wriggle, but I’m lifted off the ground in a trice
Wrapped in roses, I see her grin
Needles are sinking into my skin
‘You never play with me anymore
I just sit on the shelf watching you snore
But this dream is mine and if you ever awake
I’ll come back next night, make no mistake’
She opens her mouth wide open as if to shout
But instead a waterfall of blood comes out
The red sea is rising, thick and hot
I want this dream to end but it will not
It is hot, red, I’m choking, sinking
I try not to swallow, but I find myself drinking
The last thing I see is the eyes of the doll
That I have barely ever played with at all
I sit up straight in my bed, heart beating fast and I see
On the shelf across the room she sits, just waiting for me
She is smiling, for we know for sure
That tomorrow night she will visit once more
Literature
Secrets
Smiles are not meant for everyone. They weren't meant to be displayed for everyone else to see. Only for those who are special enough to find a way to see that smile. If a smile were an ordinary thing for anyone to see on any person in the world, then wouldn't that mean that every one of us would constantly be smiling? But we're not. Where's the fun in that? The light airy feeling of being able to get someone to crack a smile on a usually solemn face.
A smile is like a secret between friends.
Literature
Dream #1
So this dreams starts off that I went to a store with Jamie (friend) and his dad, but there was no significant dialogue to remember. We went to a small shop that sold all kinds of things, from soap to used "ds" games. I didn't know the name of the store, but I did know that my art teacher and my teacher from fifth, sixth, and seventh grade was working there with someone else that didn't look familiar. For some odd reason I was really tired and was unable to keep my eyes open, but after awhile I had infinite energy but by then Jamie and his dad had bought what they came here for.
After that I don't remember seeing their vehicle, it just tr
Literature
DREAMING A DREAM
I have a dream that I am in a dream
And in that dream I am asleep
In this dream my eyes are open
And I see that the dream is a dream
This dream that is within a dream
In this dream I then close my eyes
Falling asleep to that dream
Dreaming of being beyond a dream
The only dream that is not a dream
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I have nightmares almost every night and I thought I'd share one of them with you.
Comments2
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My heart beats fast and I worry. I worry for the night that comes.
I adore this poem, makes me little afraid of the dolls that sit and watch.
I hope you stop having nightmares (that can be better rephrased), they're never a pleasant thing.
I adore this poem, makes me little afraid of the dolls that sit and watch.
I hope you stop having nightmares (that can be better rephrased), they're never a pleasant thing.