i expect nothing less
from the steadfast skyscrapers soaring to the heavens;
as they touch the first star they could reach
and reach for dreams they didn't know they even had

in their slumber,
i dwell on these hours and the colors
that paint the skyline before closing my eyes;
then i dream of a more colorful palette
that changes the view, wakes the unliving, and lightens the weight on my shoulders

i expect nothing more
from me
as the nearest star i could touch is my lightbulb,
and the dream i'm reaching for is a whole new canvas;
i'm still yet to figure out if i fit in the picture