Bottles

I pop off my scalp like the lid of a cookie jar. It's the secret place where I keep all my dreams. Little balls of sunshine, all rubbing together like a bundle of kittens. I reach inside with my thumb and forefinger and pluck one out. It's warm and tingly. But there's no time to waste! I put it in a bottle to keep it safe. And I put the bottle on the shelf with all of the other bottles. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts in bottles, all in a row. My collection makes me lots of friends. Each bottle a starlight to make amends. Sometimes my friend feels a certain way. Down comes a bottle to save the day. Night after night, more dreams. Friend after friend, more bottles. Deeper and deeper my fingers go. Like exploring a dark cave, discovering the secrets hiding in the nooks and crannies. Digging and digging. Scraping and scraping. I blow dust off my bottle caps. It doesn't feel like time elapsed. My empty shelf could use some more. My friends look through my locked front door. Finally, all done. I open up, and in come my friends. In they come, in such a hurry. Do they want my bottles that much? I frantically pull them from the shelf, one after the other. Holding them out to each and every friend. Each and every bottle. But every time I let one go, it shatters against the tile between my feet. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts in shards, all over the floor. They were supposed to be for my friends, my friends who aren't smiling. They're all shouting, pleading. Something. But all I hear is echo, echo, echo, echo, echo Inside my head. Read desc, I put a poem there