If I were to tell you my dream,
it’s really a dream within dreams.
I see myself laying on the chest of another girl
as pretty as the sparkle in God’s eye
when He made the stars
simply insecure but I’m talking
about all the books I’ve read
while she caresses my hair
and I look forward to the pizza we’ll order later.
My dreams are vast and may seem pointless
because I’m living life mundane
with others who don’t overthink like I do
but welcome my running thoughts into their arms
all the same.
My religious heart is eager to talk all things God
with loved ones as we sip tea
and watch the rain punch cafe windows in the gut.
Because I have a lot of questions that I know
won’t exactly be answered until I’m face to face
with the One who knitted me together in the first place.
Though I want to ask Him why my life couldn’t just be like my dreams
because now it just seems like
reality is nothing else to say.
Reality is on the surface of media where overthinking
is an eternal feed and even my mind
in all it’s in depth insecurities and assured brilliance
can’t take it in any longer
because now since all these thoughts are out there
I know what everyone is thinking
and my insecurities are now sure of what people think of me
and the devil is happy
because now his right hand man, depression
is all consuming and I can’t see God anymore
because I know what everyone is thinking
and there’s nothing else to say
no point in adventures
no point in exploration of how much love we can give
there’s just these mirrors
constantly reflecting ourselves
we see just ourselves
and there’s nothing else to see
nothing else to do
there’s nothing else to say
just an emptiness that will eat and eat and eat
until it’s satisfied
until there’s nothing else.