Sitting in this classroom still,
My thoughts reaching far past the window sill,
My life a blank page on which to write
Pick a career…my brain now fights.

My mind wanders to a forest with silver streams,
The mist hangs like cobwebs, and there are no expiration dates on dreams.
Dreams were never practical beings…
They resemble bubbles, fragile, beautiful things.
I dream of a life upon the stage,
My pen flashes, more mindless notes upon my page.

I let my mind drift past my prison
In my thoughts the curtain risen,
Dancing gracefully while singing my song,
It seems it was in my heart all along.
My lines spoken beautifully, my movements deft,
Hurry, I must, I have little time left.

The dreams of my childhood begin to fade
With every new decision made,
Dreams are like old photographs turning with age,
It’s time to forget, and turn another page,
In my mind they drop the curtain
As a bomb death is certain,
Not a death of flesh and bone,
But of the happiness that I could have known.

I go to college, and I become a vet
Now my “brilliant” future is set
Sadly I put my dreams back on the shelf
I have now become less than myself.