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Grieving the Undead
They be Dreams that kept me awake,
glued to my learning, and
basking in the fantasy of their fulfillment.

They were the rush of energy,
continous bursts of wind I felt every morning,
imagining the things that can be.

They, the rails I held on to as I climbed,
in the storms called Struggle and Growing Up.
Bubbled in strong shield of hope,
I wouldn't even shiver.

Those were the Days.
Nowadays,

I am all grown up and struggled,
Life has happened and
shields now in shatters.

I draw my energy from the Well of Surviving,
dumping it into choices I can't seem to avoid,
arrays of compulsory opportunities.

In these Moments...

I have forgotten the feeling,
Feelings, great and soul-lifting.

I have mourned the fires,
then sparks of dreams
Dreams of Beautifuls I may have become.

Gone are Times,
the balls of my feet run like the wind,
at the Confidence of 'Yes, I can'.

Now even the mirage is unclear,
and the shadows of Reality is blinding.

But sometimes as I race like a snail,
I half-hope for Miracles,
that may resurrect my Undead Dreams,
bringing to life what was lost but never dead.
© Chesed