- Books, Literature, and Writing
Very Nice Poem/Poems Don't give up. My dreams are me. (In them I am free)
I wrote this poem a very long time ago when my confidence was low and I was feeling rather crestfallen.
I decided to show and tell it just recently, due to some very unkind words and accusations aimed at an innocent person for no reason other then prejudice. The comments that were made resulted in effecting others by making them feel that they were somehow unworthy or unwelcome to participate.
Thing's are very different for me now and thankfully my world is a better place, I just want to say don't give up on your dreams because one day they may just come true.
My dreams are me and I am my dreams.
We are one and the same.
Forever entwined, each dependant on the other for their continuation.
My dreams are the oxygen for my soul and a comfort to my mind.
They are the shield from the reality of the then.
They are the survival tool of the now.
They are the embodiment of the wishes of things I hope to come.
Without my dreams I am void.
Perceived as less than those that have been and lesser still then those that are.
Because they are intangible, personal and free.
They are mocked, beaten and occasionally killed.
I feel them slowly painfully dying, as they exhale their final breath that takes with it a part of me.
At times I feel it is almost certain that I will fail everything and all that I do.
So comes the fear and realization that failure is but an inevitability, a certain outcome.
In my dreams I am free, I can live even if only temporarily in a world of which I am accepted.
Unconditionally without judgement or ridicule.
In my dreams I am limitless, boundless and bright.
Without desire and possibility, the duration of my life extends before me like an endless night.
Every word of doubt expressed, leaves me wounded.
With every negative comment inflicted on me, I am further broken.
Weakened to the point where I may never fully recover to my original emotional state.
To be left to ever suffer feeling inferior, immature and intellectually inept.
My dreams revert back to my internal world silenced and abandoned.
To be left to lie paralyzed, soulless and deprived of nurture.
To resurrect? To die? To hibernate? To liberate?
I am my dreams and my dreams are me.