I played with poetry after seeing an image that really messed with me.

I woke up in my old room The smell of cigarette smoke The sound of traffic I had slept so long

And dreamed of nightmares and victories

I was here again in the past It had been a dream and I knew it Was it relief or fear I felt?

I cried.

I would miss only parts of the future But, in the now, I am free to try again And make it right At the expense of others not ever existing

Liminal Liberated

It was just a dream. I was the dreamer. I will sleep no more.