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.