Boy with a gentle dream

Alone together with a perception of what I perceive a dream
Ambitious like the sun whose rays cuts the clouds
Yet hopeless;
Like mankind; cut trees for papers and inscribe on them ‘cut not trees’
Being crazy for an endless hour,
of thought of actualising my dream.
I don’t want it big, just concerned
of making it terribly big
My triumph will be an old news
Enough to raise the living dead.
It’s really ironic to be me, that’s pretty ugly
When my success silently screams
And bleeds, even when closed,
You’ll recall I am the boy with gentle dream.


By Qweisie_Sparrow

cool..simple... easy

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