Does the war child still dream?
No longer do they float through clouds and fields of poppy.
They flee the dissolving walls of their reality,
Glimmering futures, fragile as glass,
Shattered, damaged, and gone in an instant.
An endless fall, pulling them downward from the center of their chest.
Memories and terror remain, but the dream is lost.
A ravaged mind endures in the arms of Morpheus.