It was probably a night in june
I saw from my room the crescent moon.
All seemed to be floating in its light,
but I saw my dolls were at fight.
My cat was sleeping on my bed,
it was bleeding from his head.
A soldier had hit him with a sword.
My pens were writing on the board
Calenders were gossiping with the air.
Tables were quarreling with the chair.
My cars were having a run
they seemed to be having great fun.
My black dog was barking at me,
it wanted to bite my knee.
All of a sudden I gave a scream,
as i roused from my dream.
– Mirai Scarlett