The little blonde boy
Used to be full of joy
The world
Was his toy
He could play
And dream
All day
Every day
All of the things
He imagined his life would be
Made him so
Happy
But as the days zipped by
Like the lines on the highway
Life didn’t go as planned
And he started to get high
The dreams
And schemes
He imagined
He’d achieve
Never blossomed
And holding onto them so furiously
Coast him
Everything
He demanded perfection
And as a result
He never met his own expectation
And it seemed like
There was
No escaping
He made his bed
And now he has to lay in it
But it was tough to sleep
When all his crushed dreams
Float around in his head
And his heart
Feels like led
So he’d stay up all night
Tossing and turning
To stubborn
To let go
Of his fading dreams
He couldn't see
Passed his reality
Now
The little blonde boy
Who used to be so full of joy
Has tortured eyes
Where his dreams slowly die
His neck hurts
From trying to hold his head up
But
For some reason
He still hasn’t given up
He is trying
To adapt
To survive
And get out of his own head
And all of the lies
Because
He still
Has reasons
To try
He realized
That just because a dream dies
Doesn’t mean
That he needs to too
He realized he could chose
To dream again.
-C.H.
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