Cemetery of Lost Dreams
As strange as it seems,
Bizarre and eerie,
There’s another place for dreams…
A cemetery.
Where dreams never born,
Wander off to die.
No one there to ever mourn,
Their last gasp and sigh.
Scattered here and there,
Headstones and crosses.
Never dreams become nightmares.
They are lost to us.
They haunt every sleep,
Shadows of the past.
Dreams that dared not choose to keep,
Gave us up at last.
Phantoms will not cease,
Turning in their graves.
They will never rest in peace,
Never more be saved.
When home becomes tomb,
And man becomes carcass,
The dream dies inside its womb,
And all is total darkness.
Dreams are what we are,
But what are they worth?
When under the moon and stars,
Buried in the earth.
Never to see them,
As they lie inside,
A cold, dark mausoleum,
Where they crawled off to die.
With no life or breath,
Where they lay and rot,
Becoming nightmares in death,
Forlorn and forgot.
As odd as it seems,
They do live there still.
In the cemetery of lost dreams,
Lost minds and lost will.
Locked inside your head,
Buried in your mind.
Dreams are never really dead,
There’s a pulse there to find.
Visions in the night,
Resurrect the spark.
The dream will follow into the light,
Of a person’s heart.
Let dreams come what may,
And follow those dreams,
Out of the cemetery gate,
Wherever they lead.
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