Masochist

The pinky clouds exited me little,

My Unicorns were brutal and raven.

The dreams were nice but brittle,

No daring to poison reality’s haven.

 

The pain was the teacher I listened,

Not trusting in love’s omnipotence.

The tears that poured and glistened,

Were my reminders of percipience.

 

The trauma I’ve turned to advantage,

Splashed black all over my thoughts.

The darkness is “wooh”, but I’ll manage,

To get my “happy ending” of sorts.

 

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