I am painfully aware that I have not yet lived. There is too much I have seen that is not yet real, eyelids that shield the imagination of a strange vivid reel. If you peeled them open you might be able to see, it takes me far away where my soul divides itself between the realm of daydreams and reality. Too often I find myself waking to hands waving in front of me and I don't remember where I've been. My mind is a nomadic gypsy. It wanders amongst an abstract maze to where a million things could happen - brilliant and amazing things - yet only one thing does, and that's the one I live. But in the maze I see all the unexpected where life is a lot of luck and I don't always draw the short straw. My dreams are not shackled by the steps of my feet I am a **** that rips through the layers of soil. There is no fear, there is only a new start every morning without fail. My dreams are unguarded and they have no limits nor barriers.