My dreams
they were not
as they appeared.
They were not selfish,
nor were they hopeless.
At least,
that's what I thought
at the time
I was smiling
truthfully.
For my dreams
were not dreams-
they were plans.
But my blueprints
have vanished
into thin air,
taking my hope
along with it.
YOU ARE READING
My Voice Through Poetry
PoetryDepressed + gay = poetry 🤯 ⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING: including (but not limited to) self-harm, abuse, mental hospitals, eating disorders, and suicide.
