February 3, 2011
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Sometimes, they don’t make sense.
Other times, I’d like to know more.
Why was I floating in mid-air?
Did my truck really fly off the bridge?
I can’t be certain, perhaps it was a dream.
Or was it?
Come to think of it, I usually don’t have an elevator in my room,
Neither do I walk an endless flight of stairs.
What was the point of doing this?
To get shot? To wake up?
I bet I’ll get it later.
The weather like my emotions lets me know it’s untrue.
The drinks on Earth don’t normally slant sideways in their glass.
Stay focused.
You have a job to do.
Is that you? Really?
Will you stay once I awaken?
One way to find out,
Next level, please.

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Alfilisara This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Mar. 1, 2011 at 9:46 pm
Ooooh, good allusion to Inception. I love that movie. This poem gave me goose-bumps! It is sooo cool!
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