These dreams,
Are falling from heights I thought I could achieve,
And as I watch them all, I begin to hear them call out and scream.
Panicking, very images of me,
My mind slows, analyzing every detail,
It's a mirror, reflecting an older image of me and how I went through hell,
Just so I could tell the world how I fell and succumbed to the darkness deep inside the well.
The mirror falls the glass shatters,
Killing a version of me, left splattered on the pavement.
As the next one falls, my mind tries to save it,
This one is a painting of me standing in the highest honor for all to see.
Painting the image of a self-induced king,
Who succumbed to his selfish needs and tyrannical dreams.
The painting falls, the shattered glass tears it to shreds,
As the next one falls,
It's a book,
I try to lean over and read what it says.
It tells the tale of a man,
Who left behind the greatest legacy that spans,
Long years after his death as his name still stands.
Never forgotten, and forever adored by his fans.
And as these dreams fall and tear to pieces,
The feeling of defeat feels progressively seamless.
Because my failures come too often, and watching my dreams die is ceaseless,
I've begun to accept that I am a failure,
So now I have become dreamless.
