This is a repost of a poem I wrote three years ago.
The place is an illusion and creeping with my fears.
Sometimes it’s blackened and unremberable, but others’ it’s full of cheers.
I can’t remember the last time I visited, for my thoughts are adrift.
But scenes are evident for me, as I visited this abyss.
Sometimes it repeats in a never ending sequence.
Next after next it becomes so evidently frequent.
I never know when it will come, for it’s its own deem.
You can find me here at night, it’s my beloved private dream
