Time's Running Thin

Childhood Memories

I remember as a child I used to look at clouds all the time,
But these days all I see is cracked ground and grime.
I remember seeing white puffy clouds the consistency of cotton candy,
But now they're just water condensed in a colorless sky.

The magic has left.
Reason remains.
I'm getting pretty tired of reality,
But there's not much else these days.

Dreams are fake,
The thought of them makes me crazy.
(This poem is a mess)
But then again, so is my life lately.