Your dreams lied.
The lights in the clouds
were just faraway stars
poking through the holes
in a mirage that will eventually
dissipate on a rainless day,
only to reappear the next
so it can raise and crush
the hopes of another.
My dreams lied.
It was brainless to believe I
could change the world the way
my heroes did, because my
heroes are not true heroes
and I am smaller than I thought
and how could my ordinary
lips ever begin to form
the sounds of ambition?
-
rm
YOU ARE READING
semi-permanent
Poésiea collection of poetry "Let this evening be the next piece of fabric you/stitch onto the dwindling threads of time" (from "it's late") {RM 2022-2023}
