Dreams Die

dreams die

not always all at once

sometimes they perish slow

one fragment at a time

piece by piece

dismantled by unending compromise

adulthood is made up of compromise

the things we give away

parts of our very soul

to cross the bridges

to the dark beyond

i embarked on a path

when i was fourteen years old

she wouldn't recognize herself

reflected in my mirror

i changed

because i had to

to survive this world

dreamers who cannot change

will not survive

they wither

and perish

escape into fantasy worlds

induced by drugs

and drinks

and toxic dreams

if a dream cannot truly exist

in the world as it is

it will destroy you

so you mold it like clay

chipping away the idealism

and the beauty

and all that you're left with

is a simple, hollow vase

empty, but honest

tangible and able to be held

it's not a perfect fantasy

not the wonder that first ignited flame

but it's real

and it's yours

and it fits in your hand