i suffer perennial delusions
those visions of grandeur
present a new hope annually
but each failure withers my bones
and i lie in wait, dreaming of a better day
when i will pick up the pen, say ‘dear reader’ and someone will truly be on the other side
verily i say unto thee, i am frightened and so alone
dreams of a life where all that glitters is gold and nothing breaks my bones and i’m never too cold and i don’t grow old wait behind my eyelids
that’s where i run to
that misty plane between this world and the next where dreamers walk every night, i walk among them in daylight
my mind constructs castles in the hazy air to which i’ll never hold the key
and so i stare up, up, up, and am left alone to dream
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