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As children we imagine

Have dreams

But we lose our youth in chasing them

And we crush the hands that raised us up

That held us

That were always home


And we look for new ways to get where we need to be

Constantly climbing this unachievable perfection

That we want our lives to be

And we don’t realize that without others sharing in our dreams,

We walk alone


Only inspired by what is lost

And constantly trying to get back what we so easily let go of


And we recall echoes of laughter and vague memories of what seems to be a dream

We cannot tell what is real and what our minds made up

Because these distant sounds and visions are stored so far away we forget they exist


And they ache us

And take from us

What we took

From them

This entry was posted in: poetry

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