Dreams pass you like you were never standing there, just waiting to catch them.
You are forced to watch them drift by. Loveless, nothing but pain intact and a pocket full of the crumbled remains of a life you used to hold.
Confusion rises like the constant whispers in the back of your mind. Haunting you. Taunting you. Pecking away at the dignity you felt you had left.
Do dreams exist? Or are they just a mere word created to lure people into the false sense of hope and opportunity, that they could one day be more, that one day the world and themselves would combine to make a purpose?
Each night I make the same wish. The same pledge. The same commitment.
Each night and each day, I dream to one day dream. To dream to dream with my eyes open. To make the world real and piece back the shattered remains of what used to be me.
Is it all a waste? Or am I fulfilling the exact point of a dreams purpose? To imagine with such force that your life was not what you see but what you create in the dark depths of you mind.
Humanity and justice just words in a book or the foundation of a castle in the sky? Reality remains unspoken as truth has no vocal or solid aspects in a make-believe world.
I dream to dream with my eyes open. I dream to one day dream of a future and in turn I dream that, that future is knowledge of past.
I feed the obsession night and day but for all I know I'm living a lie because dreams are not real - just a hope that the world is.