Mutations

Woke up,
No longer in the dream.

Time started to tick again,
everything seemed eternal.

I was savagely killed
though I'm still alive(?)

Woke up from a dream, shapeless,
being no longer what for years I thought.

It vanished.
Forms in the shape of letters said so.
Thoughts in the shape of feathers said so.

Now that character has gone away,
in this reality he's disappeared,
leaving trails of irretrievable.

This shapeless being is now nothing more than bleeding clay.
Waiting to be shaped.

And I know that all around will try
I'll be their toy, their hope, their guide.

And I'll be their shape, their figure
just so they can sleep alone
(with a grin on their face)

But deep inside the bleeding clay
There's a little, little soul

That's searching for the moment
where you'll let me be your clay

Mold me, shape me, do me,
only you can do it right.

when the shape turns into wishes,
then the task will be complete.

Then I would be your dream come true,
or the end of my last will.

Wishes do come true
But some say they don't last forever.

I know we were made the same way,
but in completely different places.

Synchrony of chaos
played with great mutations
that are not yet conceived
by your wild imagination.

This is why I'm asking
to print it in your mind
show me what you're made of
I'll be your work of art.