Dreaming in Black and White


These are hard times for dreamers-
The hardest, for we expect so much.
We bequeath a great deal, until we have no more to give.
This feeling is exasperating;
Nevertheless, would it be possible to end?
Our souls long for another, a soul that attains to ours.
For my heart is wearing away, and I can only speak for myself
When my heart utters:my nature is everlasting.
My purpose is resilient and strong,
Additional to my morals as well;
Never will it revolutionize into a replica of dissatisfaction.
For that is how I see them-
My soul loathes the ones who choose not to care.
For the words I speak are sacred,
I will never bestow them away
More than ever to any person, above all
Who takes no eminent value in words themselves.
I've come to where ends meet with so many,
And I am indifferent myself,
Believing that it is an adversity-
a cruel ordeal to see how far I will go,
Will go to find what I long for the most:
a love that is good and pure.
Will this pursuit appear to its last chapters,
Or will the rest of my days end
In agony and a wondering mind
Followed by mornings of questioning,
And evenings of disenchantment?
I will then lie down in bed night after night,
and resume my dreaming in black and white.

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