you lose track of the time 

do you want some of mine 

you live to be read yet 

so shy with a pen 

 

these dreams are safer 

until they’re nightmares 

you put them on paper 

to share with your friends 

 

does it matter how it happened 

what isn’t traumatic 

somehow if we read it 

it hurts a bit less 

 

several more lines to go 

then you’ll feel less alone 

the irony’s there; deeper you go

more like me it is