last night dreamed i wasn't in my own shoes
but instead a character of a story
begging to be written
in my mind, she ran
from a man threatening
to tear her down
so she climbed into bed
with a bloodthirsty creature
but somehow she reveled in it
because at least, while it consumed her alive
it loved her while it did
and i wondered to myself
why would i dream this
if the story wasn't my own
and it took me a while
but i realized
it's just one i've heard
a thousand times
