Dreams make the best poems.

A sudden flash, a blinding vision,
Amidst the hustle and bustle.
A darkened scene with an eerie glow,
A nightmare that’s remembered.

I see the evil one, lurking in the shadows.
I feel the breath of heaving fellows.
Mazes and tunnels and buses and roads
Winding between the tents in the carnival

Old women with tudongs, whispering my name.
They beckon and wave with instructions to proclaim.
An unexpected feeling of warmth,
The love and embrace of a masked one.

The recurring dreams of mutual love,
The blurred figure, what a representative.
He protects and comforts and teases and smiles,
Goosebumps crawling down my spine.

I hate these dreams that happen every night,
Reminding me of what dissolves in the light.
Piercing through my longing heart,
Reminding me of my loveless plight. 

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