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Dreamer is too pretty of a word:A breath of wistful naivety,
Masquerading as the oxygen of hope in our lungs.
It reads as a fantastical tale of serendipity,
In the novel, life-
Written in our name.
But does that not settle strangely?
Sand sinks in vain after a wave has crashed to shore,
But is, in moments, washed out at the ocean's mercy.
Such are dreams,
Inconstant in the same way we cannot grasp a cloud within our fingertips.
We must marry Modernism with the Old Timer Romance-
We can no longer afford to be dreamers alone,
For often we forget that a dream cannot guarantee felicity in reformation.
A dream is made easily into a nightmare.
Hence, we are disillusioned.
Nowadays we must be dreamers and conquerors-
We cannot use pretty words to fuel revolution!
The world is no longer pretty,
And has been thus for longer than a dreamer cares to admit.
***
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The Lines We Write ✔
Poetry❝Dreamer is too pretty of a word: A breath of wistful naivety, Masquerading as the oxygen of hope in our lungs. It reads as a fantastical tale of serendipity, In the novel, Life- Written in our name.❞ Highest ranking: #58 in poetry