DREAMS
Sometimes my dreams scare the heck out of me.
They seem so otherworldly, surreal enough to be fantasies.
They seem too beautiful to come true, too mighty to stand,
Too royal to belong on the plane of my reality.
Sometimes my dreams don’t make any sense.
Late moonless nights, I find myself laughing at them,
With equal excitement and mockery, surprised by them,
Surprised at my sky-touching, almost insulting, ambitions.
Sometimes my dreams reduce to sheer hinderance.
Stubborn as a child, they test my patience.
Antagonizing as a lover, they play with my emotions,
Make me feel astonishing happiness and impairing sadness,
Irresistible desperation and soothing fulfilment,
Eternally repressed and overly expressed, all at the same time.
But my dreams are as free as I can be.
They are my confidence, my companions and my identity.
When I lose myself amongst large crowds every day,
They are the anchors that pull me back from nihility.
My dreams look more of a load, I know, but I can’t let them go,
’Cause I am just a usual person, that’s trying to get through life alone.
That I was given a chance to be born at all, I’m glad,
But to be given a chance to live, my dreams shall be all I have,
My dreams shall be all I have; my dreams shall be all I have.
