Old treasures are uncovered
Under mathematical formulas
And theories of rock formations
Smelling like summers spent
Buried in books by the dying sun
And late into the night
There are stars and hearts
Pinned next to the open window
Dreams and wishes whispered
That have sunk into the walls
Dolls whose twinkling eyes
Mirror mine
Pictures of friends only imagined
Scrawled on papers that litter the floor
Marred by smoking hipsters
And meetings at coffee shops
People who thought they knew my true nature
And I hoped for the day I could break through
Free to let my spirit fly
And release the sleeping dreamer in me
Who am I to let these bleak things
Paralyze me?
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
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