When I was younger I had dreams that spread from the one continent to the next, blanketing oceans in wonder and mystery
I had so much to give the world, so much to offer
Everything sparkled silver in my eyes, like a fresh rain had cleaned the world and allowed it to radiate brilliance just in the moment I decided to glance at it
But I've found that the winds of the ocean carry a much different song
A dark, mournful melody
A cold, repressive tempo
I find no solace in my dreams anymore
I sat and thought and pondered that thought for hours
I built big, elaborate mansions of awe and wonder
With my own two hands I forged entire futures, it felt like everything was so small and close that I would burn my fingertips on the sun if I wasn't careful

But I dreamed far too big
I built things far too tall to stand
I dipped my hands into the molten surface of a star and watched as my flesh seared from the bones

I can still feel me inside
I can feel my tiny hands scratching down the wallpaper of my stomach with crayons clenched in my fists
I can feel the thumping of my tiny feet against my heart

And he just won't stop dreaming
For every new darkness I find myself in, I can still feel the blanket cape wrapped tightly around my lungs reminding me I'm a laundry day super-hero

Sometimes I wish he would just die so that the distant reality wouldn't be so harsh to swallow

But I can't help but listen to my tiny voice, singing my big, tiny dreams