Dreaming

I don't get it, and it doesn't flow correctly. At least, not in my perspective.

Cold.

So deep, and locked away,

The thoughts you knew always decay.

If there was an end, could it be seen?

On endless days, you're left to dream.

So what is it that makes us shine?

The end of flight, the loss of time,

Oh so lost in endless rhyme,

Cry in the night,

See this crime.

It's shaking cold but you don't see

All that was thrown away

In this cold and broken day.

Frozen and lost,

The last of me,

Broken apart

In endless dreams.