Dreams

What dreams will come,
Tonight as I sleep.
Trying to find rest,
To no avail.

The dreams are here,
Shrouded in restless slumber.
Now they begin to,
Weave they're magic.

In they're world entwined,
With in the play.
These dreams are a,
Harbinger of many things.

Toss upon the stage,
To play out a role.
Shale it be hero,
Or just the fool.

They're play goes on,
This one's a nightmare.
The plot unfolds slowly,
Reviling fear and hate.

But even in this,
Dark Tale theres hope.
For these dream weavers,
Are masters of storytelling.

The play is stopped tho,
By the sounding of a clock.
An we know not how the story ends.
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Couldnt think of a good way to end it maybe ill think of a better one later