Oh what a dream.
Oh.
What.
Reality and imaginary, you will forever remain a dream to me.
For simple inconsiderate me, had not the hands to hold onto the glistening treasure, my eyes wouldn't see.
A fucking fool of me.
Selfish fuckery, that has taken years to swallow, lest digest.
Spending my adolescence with a blockhead, I never made it to the class about life arranging.
No role model for care.
Just a greed stricken individual who put his cares before others.
You could never be a father of mine.
Or further from mind.
Excuses.
For I would hand you shit, pile on a few pounds more and sit upon it.
Yet, you still loved me.
Oh yeah! I fucking loved you, if I didn't, I wouldn't see you everyday.
I weep about the past.
The foundation which had seen to be set, was corrupted with the policies of myself.
What I wanted.
Shamelessly, never showing any true interests in anything you enjoyed.
As you did for me.
Shame.
I should be sentenced to walk the market.
Shame.
This long withheld writing to never make it to your door.
Nor would I want it too.
Happy is all that I want for you.
With or without.
I'm additional.
Just add _________ to fuck up your life.
I'm fucked up, and I take it out on other people.
I was fucked up to you.
I just walked out.
No looking back.
A sad child who didn't realize the wealth that he already had.
Shame.
You were truly a dream to me.
Now all I have are memories of what that dream use to be.
What use to be.
Smiling that use to be.
Compassion that use to be.
Usually those are the things a normal human would want to be.
Those are the subjects that slip right past me.
Back in my past, where countless mistakes haunt me.
You leading the forefront.
Pathetic of man, I am.
Cold of me, truly indeed.
I just decided hit pause and skate away.
Thinking I'm leaving my fears far behind me.
In the center of all the glob.
I just never had a proper chance to express my irrational sob.
To be forgiven, you've prolly already done that.
For you have advance in this game of life.
Where as I am sitting and only writing about it.
Oh.
That part has nothing to do with the dream.
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Sleep Diction
कविताA collection of things I write. Whenever they come to me. Enjoy. I appreciate any feedback. Welcome it even.
