Poem-A-Day: Day 499

Surreal

It all goes wrong 
like the blame nightmare prevails.
There is no crazy heart surreal.

Precious time is wishing away 
the wheel of fortune
spinning precious folds in bail. 

There is no guarantee,
and surreal precious slipping fortune
keeps running crazy.

Should I die surreal,
slipping away, wishing life away,
spinning anyway, running away. 

Surreal is slipping life; 
the wheel keeps a precious time
running away. 

Surreal is wishing your life away; 
of fortune spinning precious
running away.