Dread lives longer
than happiness will thrive.
It keeps us going, it keeps us alive.

To wish and to dream,
of a Hollywood theme,
will soon be disrupted by a reality scene.

Putting our desires to ink then to breath,
is it really worth it, when it comes to death?

Is all we see really only a dream?
Is all that we want, just a perfect song?

Is all that we succumb, transform to what we become?