Dismantled Dreams

 

 

We are all victims
    of our surroundings,
  such pleasured beings,
                           we,

breathing discontent,
buried in circumstance,
                       we climb

   just to rise above the sorrow,
       imagined fear, doubt
           and all these unloving things

            that weigh us down.


        Upon the hour,

    hands oscillate to numbers
 that mean nothing in the end;
 this shadowed fragment of time
           ~ swaying past ~

like overgrown branches
with nowhere else to go
                            
                                but up.



~

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