I knew it already

Have I woken up?

From the dreams of my dreams ?

Because it's no more beautiful, no more sweet.

It's just vicious reality,

That I can never be anything.

I picked trampled flowers,

Between my bruised fingers

But they will never grow again,

Just like my words buried,

Under sea of ignorance.

On a bright night, they will all shine while I will still be whirling around a dream that can never be mine

In the silent cobwebbed corners,

I'm again dreaming of flushed pink skies While,

Prickly thorns of metaphors sting my eyes.

I once was a river too, rushing through,

Searching for my sea.

But Under crepuscular sleeves,

Once a cryptic voice held me kindly.

And even without his words I knew it already --

I am still half of what I want to be,

And they're already twice what I could ever be.