Does the realization cut you like a knife?
The realization that the dream
Has diminished like the lungs of the dying?
Alas, the dream is now festering like a blemish
Cracking like a collapsing wall
Shattering like a fallen wine glass.
Does it fill you with grief?
Does it dry like a lake in a searing land?
Dispose of itself in the back of your mind
And rot in your failure column?
Alas, the dream is gone,
Staring back at you
As it releases itself
Into the dark pits of despair.
Now it’s gone,
Now it has disappeared.