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If
dreams are rivers, They
are made of tears. And
the end of the river, Is
an ocean of fears. People
leave behind their dreams, Searching
for stability. But
dreams, or so it seems, Are
truly the best reality. Aspirations
are as a cloud, Yet
made of dirty air. Unclean
and loud, As
in a dragon’s lair. I
dream to live my life To
its utter fullness, No
matter any of the strife, Or
the utter stillness. My
dreams lead to the ocean, Dreaming
of birds and sand, And
places I have been, Till
I cannot stand Because
of the weight of the memories, That
float in my mind. Each
its own true story, For
me to find and remember. I
want to go on past my life, Far
surpassing my expectations, I
want to look back at my wife, And
each of our creations. And
a woman and children, Before
I begin to roam, And
keep my love hidden. All
of this I dream, Within
my own self, As
I float alone the stream, Not
sit upon a shelf. I
wish to follow these, My
special dreams, And
each moment seize, Carpe Diem.
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