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Caught in a Dream
Caught in a dream,
or so it seems.
I pick myself up off of the bench and take a walk
through the park - and faint light.
The trees seem endless
in their grey fog majesty.
In the center of the park, lies a dead cow, or horse,
and seems to have taken root.
The fog kindly covers
the horrific monument of agony.
An abandon playground is visible over the chain-link fence.
Abandoned; but the swings are pushed by the unsettling wind.
The tranquil scene was - however
scarred and devastated by a horrific sight.
Two vicious gators were brutally tearing at each other in the black pond.
In plain view of the jungle gym, they rolled and crashed violently,
over, what appeared to be,
the cap of a small child.
I fled desperately, seeking refuge from the horror.
But found, in the park, no solace.
This can't be a dream.
This must be a dream.
I did not wake up - but rather - came to.
I don't drink coffee,
but this particular morning, fumbled through the straws and packets
and sipped a bitter, piping, brew.
No such thing could happen - I was sure of it.
These dreams - do not come true.
Not at this day in age.
Not while I'm awake at least.
poem
by
C.S. Smith
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