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Don't Trash Your Dreams

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  • Don't Trash Your Dreams

    Don't Trash Your Dreams
    By: J. J. Close

    Broken hopes, unspoken fears
    Alone in tears, there’s nothing here.
    No room to breathe, no time to grieve
    No wishing for a false reprieve.

    They tell you dreams are sacrifice,
    A task, a risk, a rack of dice
    to roll and hope and wish and pray
    A horoscope of future days

    You cannot chase and race the clock,
    With both your legs in safety locks.
    Ensuring you will lag behind,
    A sealant for your open mind,
    That grinds and grinds inside your pride,
    And finds your life unsatisfied.

    One day regret will open wide,
    You’ll then reflect on how you tried,
    And tried and tried to find your stride,
    But no rewind to slide and slide.
    No guide to ride. Access denied
    to override.
    And so you hide.

    You hide behind excuses,
    Worn out fuses, inner bruises.
    But Confucius says it’s useless
    to abuse these common muses.
    Your choices got you to this,
    They’re what made you, no excuses.
    You overused the snoozes,
    Your alarm clock now is useless,
    Thus no matter how you choose it’s
    almost certain you will lose it.

    ‘Cause once the sunrise rises,
    Peeks through shades and blinds your eyelids,
    Moments pass as time surprises
    Makes you realize the prizes.

    So why not grab your visor,
    As you’re amplified and wiser,
    So much brighter, so much lighter.
    You’ve evolved into a fighter.

    You’ve resolved to travel higher,
    Your desire is your fire,
    To transpire and inspire
    As you walk the highest wire.

    What you dream is what you bleed
    It starts deep in you like a seed,
    And works its way, just like a weed,
    Right through your veins until it’s freed.

    And the only way to free it,
    Is to live and breathe and be it,
    Once you’ve lived and breathed and been it,
    Only then will you have seen it.

    The sun, the light, the perfect sight,
    The futures never been so bright,
    For dreams aren’t only heightened fright
    A comatose, a storied night.
    They’re what you keep locked with you tight,
    and blocked out till the moments right,
    To fight for, like the whitest knight
    Despite the spite you’re forced to bite.

    “You can’t do this or that,” they say.
    It’s far too hard. It’s way cliché
    To spread your wings and fly away.
    Just stupid dreams, your futures gray.
    You’ll make it - maybe, yeah, okay.
    But not right now, nope, not today.

    They’ll say you’ll end up sweeping floors,
    Or working in some hardware store
    Or selling things from door to door
    While other people cash in more.

    But that’s not you, it won’t be you,
    You know just what you want to do.
    You’ll make it there, I know it’s true.
    For I’m like you, I’m right here too.

    I know you’ll dream, you have a goal,
    A task, a risk, a role to roll
    the dice and find inside your soul
    what hopes and dreams will make you whole.

    So, when the flash of lightning beams,
    The crash of thunder bursts through seams,
    The ashen evil fiends and screams,
    You must not.

    Will not.

    Trash your dreams.

    © J. J. Close
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