Still buried.

Oh why the hell not...
I wrote this in high school. My english teacher asked me if I was feeling okay. Then she gave me extra credit. It's about a really hard time in my life. Yes there was really a mountain. Yes I was tripping my nuts off. Yes I almost jumped off. But I'm here now, and that's why you're reading it. I haven't read it in like a year. Hope it's good.

The Death of a Dream

'Twas attop a mountain, in the long gone days of old,
And I stepped into the moonlight in the harsh and bitter cold.
I'd come here with a purpose, to present some noble cause.
Yet it still eludes my imagination as to what it was...

And I sat upon the rocky cliff...

Swirls of thought and conflict,
Bonfires of phylosophy.
To my left is perched a raven,
That doesn't speak a word it seems.
A magical exhilaration,
Stuck on the edge of dreams so far away...

Eventually came a voice out of the piercing night.
It spoke of all my wishes like a perfect lanscape's blight.
And with a swift, cold penetration, took away my throne,
And suddenly revield to me, the voice was but my own.

The power drives me further,
To a dark torential river,
Finding no one to recieve the gifts
I'd worked so hard to keep as secrets.
Nobody can find me now,
I'm on my own a long, long way from home...

And as I left the mountain, lost in memory,
Wide awake, though surely dreaming of that which couldn't be,
I lost where I had come from, and whatever I had seen.
But maybe I'm still on the mountain, burried in my dreams.

__________________
But I keep on comin' here, standing in this state. Well I'm always reasured the situation's gettin' carried away...