To be held by shattered dreams. Crawling in their broken glass, slipping in the blood as it spills from my wounds, these are my dreams.

Decayed, shattered, spreading disease into my cuts in hellish screams as they mourn for life and scream in the abyss.

This is not what dreams are made of. This is how nightmares are born. From the fallen grace of dreams never realized. From dreams that became shattered with disdain, hatred and soaked in contempt for their host that let them die.

Awaken me.