I almost killed my dreams

One day a storm called society showed up at my door

Knock knock, is this the address of dreams.

I peeped out through the hole.

They had axe to chop of my wings.

Bleed my dreams,

kill them, and kill them.

They have been trying to kill it for years

But every time, we escape.

I decorated my dreams in a golden basket. Hide it underneath the paper mache. Ornamental paper, shiny glitter. I blew my blood into it. For years and years, I sewed each part of its body. Stayed up nights till my work is done. Shimmering candles and shining hopes. My tears were pearls that shone in the darkness, melted snow pieces. Every sweat was like spring’s rain.

I headed into my room and packed them

The suitcase was empty, restless filled in this air,

For a second,

I felt I can’t live here

It’s hard to breathe

and once I throw it out of the window

I will never see my dreams again

I can’t let them kill my dreams.

So I grabbed my dreams along with the handle and opened the door.

The society and I got into a dispute,

I am still trying to escape from the crowd,

Cacophony of words dissolve in my ears, but I cried blasphemy, surviving this catastrophe.

But

I am crying beads of bliss,

Thank goodness, I didn’t kill my dreams