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Taking a nap became super busy and hot
What could become of the dream she got?
Keeps coming back to hunting eyes' jot
Viewing afar her possible lot
Maybe or not would be as plot
Or probably weird off frank guard's prank's shot
Leaving an unforgettable experience's spot.

Been there; usually great: days while at Rome
Nigeria: how so hot; I realized when back home
But She can be great like Rome if chrome
Bringing about change in ohm
Managing the resistance of gloam
To giving new dawn priority and reckon to foam
Illuminating night that long hid brightening dome.

Then she would become her own very self
And stop traveling the spirit like every elf
Rather choose pleasure taking hold unto bookshelf
Than picking fight with head's shelf
How lovely it can be to be oneself!
Of no fun beyond doubt, need be; detect it yourself
She have done that, I am doing it as well myself.

It would be awesome to have such killed,
Though I am still much expectant and unskilled
Cum her days in adventure by years drilled
By will that fearlessness be instilled
Without much headache she chilled
And would enable enough experiences like she had fulfilled 
Which partake in the process of her true rebuild.

Despite all, she loves him faithfully the more
Such extent of no trace cum excitement explore
Thrilling is moment's undefined pleasures encore
At every meeting indoor
Supposed hatred  ignore
Based on all heart had duly over time persistently labor
Are growing marks no one else would be able to outscore.

Though carrying the burden of the cross is painful,
Yet keeps up with it for the afterwards are gainful
But the story is definitely becoming really doubtful
Meanwhile, it would be blissful...
Cum fulfilment; dreams beautiful
Her energy heightened with sense of humor so boastful
Every blessed day's thought of it appears delightful.

I wonder how the dream's narration made her a crier 
That solemn tears soaked her heart's beautiful attire
Till the reflection couldn't hide away the flame of its fire
With that, I need not to enquire
What picture lies in her satire?
It would rather become a poisonous flame's magnifier
There I lay silently in order not by virtue of care, misfire.

My mind embraces tears but signals need to be still,
Jogging the weight of its possible effect downhill,
If it would be seen through as a loving
goodwill
Not that I enjoyed the thrill,
But truly sympathize the spill
Then I employed fortune to accompany my quill
To pen her solitude good enough an overflow refill.

Now she comes again alive awake
Crying till morning has night retake
Soliloquizing yet voiceless lips shake
How is dream so opaque!
That she can't eat its cake
Then ponder of what could be at stake
Only if her dream's ocean turned lake

Who would be the first to f*ck up?
Young Mind or Old Heart's gallop
 Trying to have a smooth followup
Of what both develop
Before a sudden blowup
Probably to be settled with cleanup
Then pretends to have a fresh startup.
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