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Aug 2016
Awoke to a sad same day
And before I went back to bed
I crumpled every ******* dream
And threw them all away

Fools are those who imagine
It’s somehow righteous to be different
And amid the masses they’ll be seen
But no one knows you, little man
The news is not covering your dreams

I think someone really wants me
To be the same as all the rest
Behind their smiles I see a lie
And though I’ve scoured the bay for truth
Cities make, of my reflection, jest

Dreams are this illusion of vastness
Like matter, what seems dense is hollow
What I want, to you, is small
Every selfish field must grow fallow
What’s fateful matters not at all

So it turns out I was right
And happiness must be
An empty bottle
A towel to throw in every fight
Found this in an old folder, written 9 years ago. Thought I'd share, as it spoke to me.
Devin Weaver
Written by
Devin Weaver  Oakland, CA
(Oakland, CA)   
617
 
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