Dreams Never Die
Sometimes they need to hide
From harsh lights;
From the noises of words
Too loud to make sense of.
Sometimes they deceive,
Making you believe
In different truths
Playing the games of madness.
When you let go,
They crumple and fold -
Abandoned they wrinkle;
Become hard and rancid
Their stench suffocating your being;
Smoke clouds of confusion,
Cataracts of delusion
Waiting to cease to exist -
Dreams Never Die