In the realm of hopes, where dreams take flight,
Lurks a silent spectre, veiled in the night.
Its name is "But," a dream killer's might,
Casting shadows on ambitions, dimming their light.
For every dreamer, with visions bold,
"But" whispers doubt. Its grip takes hold.
It stifles aspirations, leaves hearts cold,
Turning dreams to dust, leaving stories untold.
"But" mocks the bold, with its cynical sneer,
Fanning the flames of anxiety, drawing near.
It's the voice of reason, cold and austere,
But in its wake, dreams disappear.
Yet in the face of "But," there's a glimmer of hope,
For the dreamer knows, they possess the scope,
To overcome doubt, to climb the slope,
And turn dreams into reality, with courage to elope.
So heed not the whispers of "But," my friend,
For dreams are resilient, they'll bend and mend.
With unwavering faith, let your aspirations ascend,
And conquer the dream killer until dreams never end
YOU ARE READING
Something Not Told
Poesiaso here are some interesting poetries about things you might have heard but never gave a thought about, or even if you did, you might not have given it a try about how those things can really affect our life.
