January Melancholy

January doesn't seem to be ending. How could one month contain so much emotion, so many thoughts, so much weight of anticipation of what really is and what could be, or what would be and what wouldn't be? How could it carry so much hope yet some colossal fears? I look and see a silhouette that has descended deep into a valley so down-reaching, and wonder where exactly I lost the difference between a dream and a nightmare. Definitions are doubtful, relationships risky, humanity inhumane. And still you hurl more doubts at me casting a shadow on my youth, and what I think I have you snatch away with your words of uncertainty. Traces of goodness I find in blurred recollections. If all is a delusion I wish to never have been born.

Are you an apparition I have conjured up in my over-simplistic head? Are you only a child of my deceptive apprehensions? I hope to God not. You, or that I conceive as you, tells me happiness is real. But if a lie is all that you are God help me wake to this reality my sight fails to comprehend, and quick! And even still it is hard to not hope. Hope that breeds much despair. So tell me really, what the difference is between a dream and a nightmare? 


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