From 1994

Dream Is Dead

Believed in the way I felt
But these feelings start to welt
Became weak and so unsure
Nothing left when you asked for more
Promises tattered like our past
If loves not there then how's it 'spossed to last

Paint the picture of perfection
Made fantasy it's protection (locked away from it all)
Stamps and letters, rare visits and calls
On the outside locked in by your walls (worst kind of destruction)

The letters stop the dream is dead can't do what I first said
The brush has fallen and the paint has dried can't change how I feel inside
Can't stick to my guns if their not loaded or walk a path that's corroded

No picture to analyze nothing to recapture my eyes
Not even memories of you
Succeeded in changing me a bit
But to a hollow mold ... I'll never fit

Poetry by Helen Warren
Read 491 times
Written on 2009-05-26 at 06:16

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liz munro The PoetBay support member heart!
LOVE the flow & rhyme.

So sad but I detect a hidden meaning
of not giving up to spite someone.

I like this a lot