Poem 10
The story of a Dreamer.
Where do dreams go to be reborn?
Where can he find them?
For I sing to thee of Douglas.
Who fell at the hands of all injustice.
Who knew no blue skies, only bruised black eyes.
But now those days are gone.
He thereafter held a part of himself with guilt.
Guilty as wrong.
So He walked by with such honesty.
So He walked by with such pain.
Running through the streets.
Trying to outsmart the rain.
So he failed.
As the heart swelled.
He grew rebellious.
Knowing nothing passed his own mind.
He searched subconsciously for memories he struggled to find.
Nickles and dimes mattered not.
Nor did credit or any amount of financial stock.
His wallet had been empty.
Empty as broken piggy banks and overdrawn accounts.
Dreams were all he had
It was his craft.
The only half that refused to die.
Refused to stay dead.
He'd never abandoned his dreams
So it seems.
Not forgotten, not thrown in a hole
like damage goods that has rotten.
Many things go through his logical brain.
His only claim to wealth was that he'd had no blame
for dreams had been kept safe.
The dreams had survived the fall.
The story of Douglas, his dreams I present to you all.
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