At night when the silence is deafening,
when thoughts of what ought to be is screaming.

Dreams of the future, so idealistic yet unrealistic.  In dreams where I can be anything and everything I want to be.
Yet I am here wide awake smirking at how great and crazy it would be.

How is that possible, to want a lot of things that is not free. To strive so hard yet still at the same spot, how can I flee?

In a life full of hope, yet there seems to be none. To hold unto something intangible, for the tommorows to follow.