I dig deep,
to hell it seems...
to find a buried broken dream.
I lean into the shovel's blade,
and hit a promise long since made.
Sweaty brow and blistered fingers,
my adolescent fear still lingers.
I grasp this dream,with fingers bent,
and think about the time I'd spent.
Then just a boy, now old and gray,
life, how it quickly slips away...
I lay my dream out on the table,
like a candle nearly burned,
but not before I try once more,
with wisdom slowly earned...
With hindsight 20/20,
and a mirror looking back,
surely now my mind,
can separate the
fiction from the fact...
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