Twinkling nights and sparkling skies,
Long night gowns and lullabies,
Soft teddy bears and for-your-own-good lies;
Dreams of heaven, where not only angels can fly.
Startled awake, pillows damp with tears,
And ponder if irrational, are you fears,
Or if the mental scars are very severe,
And your parents walk in and lend you an ear.
Speaking of beautiful turned twisted dreams,
And they ache to calm when they see the glassy gleam,
As they recall their own past midnight screams,
And the wicked realities that shook their cores to extremes.
Is the attempted aide wrong, if born in deception?
Or just a sorry excuse for experimental redemption.
Possibly a gnarled misconception.
Or just an another affect of the white lie perception.
"Don't worry sweetie, think of only happy affairs."
"Nothing can harm you as long as we're there."
And only those with senses irreversibly impaired
Would believe such nonsense, as in lack of despair.