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Literature
Millions
Let me a weave a fantasy out of the cadence in my words, the tone of my voice, a rhyme fixed to a rhythm fixed in a choice Let my words bring a dream of a world to life, Where immortality is a reality free from strife Every hurdle surpassed by pure grit, determination, a bold dash of wit that lets us flit and fly way into a daydream of golden days Made of perfect summer nights and brilliant winter days having adventures where hurt leads to growth and pain heals. Because reality doesn't. We awake from dreams and close books to happily ever afters finding that the mundane is wearying and So close to hopeless that they're synonyms Just as 'wise man' has become an oxymoron because there are no wise men nor wise women just men and women and people living amid a dying world screaming at us through wildfires and gunshots plastic-wrapped and choking. We leave our minds and enter tired bodies, tired eyes, tired burdens others have set upon others set upon themselves There is no fantasy
Literature
more
never was a dreamer
i'd just sleep till morning came
the sun rising too slow
myself rising too slow
as i fell out of bed
but something changed
and last night i dreamed
that i was something more than
me.
Literature
Brief Considerations
I have briefly considered burning.
Though always smouldering,
there was never quite a flame,
so to speak.
I have always been more
like a dim light,
glaring from a distance.
After lengthy consideration,
it has been decided that the
acrid stench would do me
no favours.
I have grown to accept
that I am no star,
no source of light
for the malcontent.
I am just one small light,
flickering, wavering,
barely existing;
Yet I carry on
and that is good enough
for now.
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