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They tell us dreams are cleaning up our day
lives, putting things where they belong so we
can find them, straightening the kinks away
we couldn’t help but tangle in. Dreams free,
they say, our secret wishes, too, our fears,
as well. I ask you, what do dreams not do.
Last night mine rummaged through six veils of tears;
I can’t describe what trials they put me through.
I stood accused of envy, sloth, lust, pride,
greed, gluttony, and rage, in every case!
For this, I must feel gratitude? They lied,
the hostile witnesses, right to my face.
My judgment is, our waking swings the mop
that soaks the messes up our dreams let drop.