I wake in a room, where knives are in the walls and blood stained carpets hang off the windows. It a misunderstood situation, some would say. But it is a dream today. The room has black wallpaper but it has been shredded by the nails of us all. It's only escape route is the metal door, by the windows with the bars. I pinch myself to wake up, but the room seems not to be a dream, but an enchantment. I walk around the bed that is fit in the middle of the room. It's red blankets with black roses seem to be in the wrong room, but the feathers that stick to it make it perfect.
I sit down on the floor and rub my hands against it's sticky surface. I lay down finally, and feel the coolness of the black wood on my skin. My eyes close and I remember my old mother's lullaby. I hum it to myself. If someone were to walk through the bolted door, I would probably be the right piece of furniture for this nightmare of masterpieces. I keep still and wait. I Wait for the lullaby dreamer to rescue me, I wait for the prince in shining armor that will never come. I wait for sanity to come and show me the portal to reality.
If only, if only.
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