All of the Broken Dreams

Do you think that dreams every get tired of being nothing but a dream? 
Nothing but a fleeting hope, 
Some come true, but what about all the other dreams 
That begin dancing with a human soul in a golden ballroom, 
Until soon the white floors are stained black with ash,
And the walls drip not in the gold of wonder and hope, but the gold marrow of fire, 
And what's worse isn't that that dream is dancing in a burning room, 
And the dream will be brought down to ashes so soon, 
But that the human will too. 






-anna sluder

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