Thirteen Dreams

Thirteen yards from destiny.
Thirteen dreams stand tall.

Thirteen years to seek a dream,
 and watch it simply fall.

Thirteen years for sun to set,

upon a skin so white.
Thirteen critics hold me up with
thirteen wings of flight.

I look upon a darkened hall,
 my heartstring filled by doom.
Thirteen tiny angels stand,
 observing writing room.

Thirteen hours away from death, 

with velvet liquid by my bed
Setting my mould by ten,
I catch my desperate breath again.

I drop onto my bedspread gold.
And watch my thirteen dreams unfold.

By Boneata (Rebecca) Bell.



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