Vaguely they dance Behind my sleeping eyes Almost not there. And are the dancers in my dreams the puppeteers who pull the strings through my waking days? In the plays my mind pretends A touch of reality always creeps in. And is the play something thats been or the plan for tomorrow? Within the darkness of the night Mystic dancers bring delight A puppet string fades from sight. And are the dancers in my dreams the puppeteers who pull the strings through my waking days?
Dpressedmuslimah
Just a muslimah struggling with Bipolar Depression
