A Dying Dream

I am a dream that’s dead.

 

I was once beautiful and strong,

Desired and loved by many,

A princess in many eyes,

And a living dream to you.

 

I was once the girl who had it all,

Got everything I could ever wish for,

Lived the life many feared but admired,

Walked the path to rainbows and happy ending.

 

I am a dream that’s dead.

 

You who called yourself my dearest,

Crushed my heart and left me in the dark,

Made me believe I was worthless,

Got me to believe I was a disgust.

 

You who called yourself family, shot,

Burned, and staked me to my deathbed,

Shattering my life with your lies and cheats,

Leaving me vulnerable in the open, cold air.

 

You who called yourself a best friend stepped

Over my broken heart and pushed me off the cliff,

Calling me names and leaving a mark,

A deep, open scar in my heart.

 

I am a dream that’s dead.

 

My heart cried out and my mind bled out,

I could only think of your happiness,

Every single one of you deserved it,

And I grew to believe I deserved punishment.

 

I was punished for things I had never done,

I was judged for things I had not known,

I was alienated for someone else’s sins,

And for you, I took them all wholly.

 

What had I done so horribly that I kept losing?

What horrid deeds that my heart deserved merciless murder?

Such cold dreams and frozen heart,

I stored them in the dark to keep them safe.

 

I am a dream that’s dead.

 

I grew bitter and unforgiving,

Angry at those I had loved and defended,

Who traded my sanity for their self worth,

Placing their sins on my shoulders and let me burn.

 

I am a dream that’s fading away.

 

There’s no longer beauty reflected in my mirror,

I am nothing but a damaged soul,

I am merciless and heartless, but it was not my doing,

My loved ones decided to let me be.

 

Because I’m a dream that’s forgotten.

 

I’m a wish they’d thrown away,

I’m the shooting star that was missed,

I’m the goal they’d found impossible,

I’m the dream they call a nightmare.

 

But dead, forgotten, missed, or left behind,

I am still a dream.

And perhaps, someday, a good friend

Might dream about me again.

 

 

 

Image by FractalAngel-Stock

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