My Broken Dream Catcher

In a night as blackened as tar,

through the clanking metal blinds

stripes of light seep

up the walls of my bedroom.

Dangling from the ceiling fan,

feathers and string and beads.

Beautifully interwoven,

tangled,

like a masterfully crafted spider’s web.

A net meant to catch the bad dreams

buzzing in the air like gnats

circling above a motionless body.

I thought you were supposed to catch the bad ones.

Mom said you would catch the nightmares,

yet you unleash them from the stables of the mind.

Galloping through the night with fiery eyes

stampeding through a silent night.

Often, I open my eyes to a dreary day and mistake reality

for the doppelgangers you introduced in my sleep.

There has to be some weaving witch 

cackling over her magic imbued loom,

Satisfied in the irony of the whole situation:

A dream catcher that lives up to its name.

It catches dreams, alright.

And it never gives them back.

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