I’ve seen things that question this place.
A little boy sits on the edge of my bed.
I wake in a dark room at night,
he smiles and runs off with a stare out of sight.

What’s he telling me?
Why did he visit my younger self?
Was it just me preparing myself?

I’ve seen things that question this place.
I’ve floated to the ceiling and sat on the window ledge.
Dreams have come true while reality plays with itself.
What am I trying to tell myself?

I’ve awoken in the middle of the night
with a lightning storm by my side.
I’ve felt Moondust slip through my fingertips
and spoke to beings in a time that was light.

I’ve been told that I’m stupid,
I’ve been told not to do it,
they told me to give up at this moment of doing.

My mind works differently.
I don’t see it the same,
and for many years I died in a flame.

I’ve trained my mind and worked on my game,
just to fit into this deluded frame.
The seconds turn into decaying years
because I’ve seen things that question what seems to appear.

I’ve spoken to the dead who stand at the foot of my bed.
I’ve travelled through space in a moment ahead.
I’ve dreamed in dreams that bend the laws of a single thread,
all while sitting in a hot bath
that’s filled to pretend.

I’ve seen my children.
I’ve seen my wife.
I’ve seen this future in another life.

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