---------☆ 𝙿𝚘𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚢. ☆---------

He's just a dream.

He's just a dream,bigger than it seems,
He's just not minded,everyone ignores.
He always dreams about being loved from someone that brings a miracle,
He was at the lake of a beautiful night sky,
when he closes his eyes he believes that imagination can fly,
And really,it does...

.....

One day,i'll take that rose
and put it in your pocket,
so you'll remember me with a smile,
I'm not begging to forgive me,I'll leave with a pout on my face,
but it's typical that stars are awake for you,i'm reminding in my head that one day I'll step ahead and I'll be back with more roses,I shall lead you to my garden of whispers,when you see a garden,step closer,you can hear a whisper.
.......

Whispers are stories,stories for unknowns lives when they were eighteen,
since this memory,i hold it in my hand tightly so it can't reach for the high skies,I hold it for me,for my own life.
.....

I continue giving,i'm done with loosing.
He's just a dream which no one can steal.
This paint of mine is a real desire,I hope it's a temporary fire burning my eyes,my hopes are caught in another man's hands,they can't survive.
People used to say he's empty and clean,his skin is thin,ans his thought is just a sin.