Poem: Your Dreams

I see the words, but the paper is blank.

The story that is in my head cannot leave my body.

The thing that I love is one that I cannot have.

Stories are being told, but the pen cannot fit in my hand.

The thing that makes me move is also the thing that keep me still.

I do not know where to start, but I do know how it ends.

To tell is to sing without words.

It is to walk without moving.

I cannot tell you what is happening.

I just know a dream is blossoming, but the nightmare is still around.

One thought on “Poem: Your Dreams

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