The art of a nightmare Before sun rise

Glints sound of birds interrupted by the squeaks past of cars,so precious it was stolen and replaced with a dusty old spoon.

Emerging,how pityful that innocents hide behind an ignorent face,like a shapeless piece of glass,shame no beginning nor was the end.
What are the expectations,to be crawnd in such tune of heart.

Destroying what has already distructed,not even a terrorist can tell the difference,if only a piece of the sun could be snatched.
The shadowed darkness awaits as if the he deserved such stolen treats,thats before the sun rise. . .

Disintegrated into dust as the wind swifted like a feather dustor emerald wave progresses quicker past,leaving a spark of beauty.The sky blushes like a love struck girl until a pleasent moment that glints like gold,framing the twilight of her face.

No reason to the blazing tumbles,was it a thriller,No! Just a nightmare that kept me away from my gorgeous dream thats because she was in it,pushed over and relapsed on buried silent nights.
Holding back is that instinct that has doubts about wether tomorrow comes.

A dawn of a new day he starts upon the short but dounting just before the sun rise,it was no destination,a light in the deepest darkness arise,once again/alive once more,that was such a horrible dream.