Raised on the crumpled fairytales and dreams of fractured youth,
left nothing to believe in and little else to do,
but cast the past into its hell and banish memory’s hold,
into the fiery pit of growth that purified my soul.

I think of times when hope was lost and blindness filled my days;
when darkness colored everything and filled my life with grey;
where fairies found in fairytales were buried where they died,
and weakened wills were crushed to dust and vanished with the lies.

But now the dust is washed away, and life is largely gone,
that bedrock, now left found exposed, is made of solid ground.
Amidst the hopes and dreams of youth, tales set my mind ablaze,
I sense these wild imaginings were meant to lift my days.

Throughout my life I’ve always thought my dreams eluded me,
and lies were told, in years of old, to quiet me to sleep,
But through the ever changing years, these tales unlocked a door,
for dreams were told to give my mind creative wings to soar.