Dreams

Sitting upon the windowsill
In the light of the moon
a bottle of unopened dreams
Sat stagnant and unused
Long forgotten in my haste
Smelling of rotten mold
Screaming murder and the like
Tearing apart my very soul
Dancing was a thing of a past
Writing I lost too
I forgot how to act
And my paintings have turned blue
My tears have taken all the majesty
Out from my bleeding life
Black has invaded my heart
My arms are scarred by a knife
And still sitting upon the windowsill
Is that bottle of unopened dreams
I laugh and take another swig
As I fall apart at the seams.