Every day the thoughts would gather,
Each one dies as they slowly creep,
I pick them up and place them in a book,
Between the pages is where they sleep.
The dreams of children left to die,
The tears now rule with their constant scream,
Murdered by society, those dreams of theirs,
By School and belonging and their synthesised dream.
I cry as I gather those dreams,
To put them to rest in their despair,
But soon they'll see, and realise,
We need dreams, more than we need air!
(Cry for me, and I'll cry for you,
For I lost my dream, and so did you.)
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