The Dreamer

 

 

            

In the sanctuary you call a bed,

 

When the dark whisps of night

 

Envelope you into a mysterious slumber.

 

You feel the warmth of the day

 

Extracted from your skin,

 

Entranced in your thoughts.

 

Your will is law

 

Your creativity is not limited

 

The grasps of reality,

 

Relieved from your suffocating soul

 

You live on,

 

Not extending your reach beyond the barrier,

 

You limit your own abilities

 

Locking your full potential

 

Never willing to learn just how special one can be.

 

 

 

 

              

Reviews

[Arsenic]

How true, reality is a pain in the a*s. lol. Your poem has incredible power and emotion. Too often in our world does culture hold us back with low expectations and make us beleive that we can not do anything so we don't. I really like the message you have here and it is wonderfully expressed. More people should read this.

[Lexy]

I guess it's too bad I rely on reality. Though, hopefully none of my nightmares come true (if they did, Lord Voldemort would be real. I seriously had a nightmare about him like 2 years ago. Mom made it better with pancakes, but I'm off topic.) You have awesome imagery writing, and this one paints a couple of scenes in my mind. Weird, because there's not much imagery in this poem... but I must state the truth! Good job, Ryan.

[Aileen]

wow. vrry nice. and soooo true
hay how u've bin? u havent answered my txtes
keap up th great work
ur freind
Aileen