Broken Dreams Poetry Novels & Stories

As for me, the moment my head hit the pillow, exhaustion dragged me under. But sleep wasn’t peaceful. Instead, a barrage of nightmares took over. I dreamt I was sobbing hysterically, fighting, screaming, trying to defend myself in one chaotic scene after another. I cried until my voice shattered, ran until my legs gave out, clawing at the empty air like someone losing their mind. Then, in a flash, I was standing on a high ledge. Without hesitation, I jumped. My body crashed hard against the ground. Blood pooled beneath me, spreading wider and wider, until I looked like a shattered butterfly at the end of summer—broken and still.

One broken. One whole. But peace like this? It never stays. Not when someone’s still watching. And I felt it, just beneath the silence, the next lie waiting to be broken.

*sigh*' Jessa’s POV Today is my first day at work and the anxiety is getting the best of me and the fact that I am going to be with the greek God almost all the time is not helping any better. The f**cking dream is also hunting me like a damn zombie. It is stuck in my memories. Ugh! My life is just so fucked up. Nothing good can come out of my pathetic life. I can't seem to think or focus on anything except the damn dream, this fucked up dream.

"In the silence of the night, her heart was wounded, An invisible wound, yet so deep. She loved with all her heart, But her love was betrayed and abandoned. The woman cried in the corner of her room, Remembering the good times that once were. Her smile that was once so bright, Now faded, replaced by sadness. She felt like a wilted flower, abandoned by the sun that once warmed her. Every smile she used to give, Now feels like a burden that doesn't mean much. But she persevered, despite her broken heart, Seeking the strength to rise again. She knows that love doesn't always last, But she still hopes for a miracle. The woman's heart is broken, but strong, She gathers the pieces of her heart. Ma

Due to that, he hobbled around, nearly as good as crippled. Resentment simmered between them: Sean with his grudges, Rowena with her cold shoulder. Nancy confided in me that the pair, though housemates, were at each other's throats daily, stirring up a racket that could wake the dead. The stillborn they brought home did not last long before it decayed, swarming with maggots, filling the house with a stench worse than a sewer. Rowena's grip on sanity started to slip, her days filled with wild outbursts. A video of one such episode, self-recorded, went viral and, bizarrely, turned a profit.

She could not move from my place for a long time. And no matter what, the night will pass You will die at night There will be more poison in life at night Now, if it stays, the night will pass in the veins and veins It is too late for sunshine to come from the horizon The night will shatter like a broken mirror The night will shatter like a broken mirror How long have we been wandering in darkness? If you stay, the night will pass in an instant The end of the night is also known to me The magic that has crossed its limits will go away at night

But those dreams lay shattered now, scattered like shards of glass upon the cold, unyielding floor. For the night had passed, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. And she was left to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart, alone in the cold light of dawn. he night etched itself into her memory with an indelible, horrifying mark. It wasn't just memorable; it was a night that would haunt her for years to come, a night she would never be able to forget no matter how hard she tried.

The dream broke, leaving me shaking. In the dark, I whispered into my hands: “I will not break. Not this time.” But part of me wondered if breaking wasn’t the point—if I was being remade into something else entirely.

0 Maybe Tomorrow (by Leo Ellis) 0 Maybe tomorrow, I’ll find my way, 0 Into the arms where love holds sway. 0 A monster with dreams that gently borrow, 0 Hoping for a home, maybe tomorrow. 0 Alone I stand, in the quiet of night, 0 Wishing for a family, warm and bright. 0 Broken eyes reflecting a hopeful gleam, 0 In the silence, I dare to dream. 0 Through corridors of hope, I tread, 0 Aching for a place to rest my head.

The last line still echoed through the room— through her bones— through the walls— like a whisper from the void itself: “The God of Dreams…” —