Give me your dreams,

for they are what give us meaning.

Without them we would be devoid of passion;

no purpose, just a shell to refer to as ourselves.

Oh! I won’t tell you that,

for I need your dreams to seal the wounds

that still bleed.

But first, let me tell you a bit about myself.

I was just like you – young, happy and full of passion.

I was the colour of the sky on a bright day,

like the grass on a spring morning.

I was the seven colours of the rainbow

and every other colour from a paintbox.

But over time, I became dull.

my colours began melting away.

The jokes didn’t  amuse me,

the movies didn’t make me cry.

And as the colours spilt away,

so did the dreams.

Now here I am

waiting for dreams to drive me to the end.

I’ve tried and toiled

and as I lay here,

I think about how sad it is, what a pity.

I am once more just a shell,

devoid of dreams, not doing so well.

So I beg, I beg of you-

give me your dreams;

I am tired of being unseen.

– P.S.


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