We'll never know anything.
After I exhaled all of my memories, I waited, once again, to inhale life.
Here I Am.
Repeatedly walking upon this new world being unaware of my old footsteps.
Only being able to reflect through reflections found through dreams that were built off support beams of past realities.
Some are farfetched fantasies from when death slept its happiest.
Some are painful nightmares from when death slept its worst.
Some are short-lived from when death took short naps.
Some exceeded the average from when death had stayed up to long.
Either way we cannot avoid death, rather Death forces us to live.
We'll never be able to develop pictures of existence outside our own.
Not even through dream mirrors.
We can’t defend ourselves from Death's unknown mind.
Déjà Vu always hits me with familiar fist.
Death must have dreamt of this place before.
We'll never know how many times we've met someone.
We'll never know anything.
Sharp pains flow through us like rotating on broken beds.
Death has woken from a lifetime of slumber.
Another reality of ours is buried and can only be visited from inside the graveyard gates of the dream world.
But we can’t even plan to journey there, unless Death is sleeping.
We'll never know what death does when its awake.
Just know that it will be the death of you.
Just know that death will not be the death of you until Death dies.
We'll never know if Death dies.
We'll never know anything.
Nine Tails
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-s-dream-2/
