The labyrinth of our minds,
When I came upon a door
That he’d so cleverly locked away.
Above the door, there was a sign,
Behind the door, there was a room.
The walls, completely black,
And a lonely bed in the center.
Among the blackness were little stars,
Spinning, dancing, orbiting,
Around the place of rest.
If you were to rest
In this bed,
It spoke of dreams.
Dreams he’d tell no one,
for they wouldn’t understand,
unless they could see for themselves.
I woke that very morning
With an sharp pain in my head,
And an overwhelming sense of dread.
This is the curse
For trespassing on another’s soul.
Forever to be haunted.