You remember how you were always a dreamer as a child? You could breeze through anything and everything, just like in those old cowboy cartoons: a swirling rope in hand, ready to grab hold of whatever the heck you wanted. Maybe dreams in a child’s brain are found too easy.

Maybe as you grew up, the ground split and all these walls erupted. Maybe you thought you knew where to go to find all those dreams that had so much potential, so much need of a dreamer and his rope to grab onto them.

Oh if only dreams could speak your language. They’d call you; you, who despite being baffled and lost, were always meant to reach them. But your ears don’t hear and your eyes see concrete.


So now as the charisma of the world begins to fade behind these walls, you put down your rope and sit quiet in this grey space only just busy in your waiting.


Darling, you think your dreams will come get you now?


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