I am a puppet of my own mind,
It makes me break and makes me bind.
Even the sea waves are not free,
The moon makes them dance to it’s own glee.
To lie and gain for motive defined,
Is the mark of a man quite unrefined,
But still, not he is as defiled,
As the one who gives false hope.
He who dreams to sleep to sleep to dream,
Has felt harsh reality fray the seam,
Yet, through the brunt he has gleaned,
Is it not better to not to wake,
Continue, to hope, to dream in a bliss filled lake,
Ruby Castles, shining jewels and a crystal snowflake,
Ah, covetous dreams.
Most welcome is the winter sun,
Dreaded is the desert sun,
Inconsequential the autumn one,
Just a matter of perspective.
My mind drifts like the snow,
there must be a cause to reconcile,
I wish there was some place I could go,
But in the end it all seems futile.
A day will come when I shall be,
what ever I am ought to be.
Till that day I seek to be,
what ever I am not to be.