In the rising of the sunlight
There is a sea of breakables in every sight,
a spasm of Dreams scattered from the night,
a special world taken down, given up and tossed around.

Across this land are shadows of dead things and they shine
and gleam in this morning.
Often they walk & plead and despair with what is left.

Left in the mind that is no more.

As they cease to be forever unliving,
Space for them is created in the Hopes of Dreams.
A chasm of delicate things in between,
Forced down to those breakables of that unseen.

A desperate nightmare within a scattered, almost living dream.