We are born into a type of dream of sorts,
that someone else has offered,
They have shaped this world.
They have given it energy.
They pass that along to you.
You inhale it.
You become it.
Even if that thing is a monster.
You go out into the world broken. Yet so so beautiful and strong in some strange way.
Alas, the broken starts to get fixed, you are a golden angel, so much light, but the other
Towards dreams that do not exist in reality
The sadness is like an ocean…