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The Dream

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She sits in history, attempting to pay attention
To rambling speeches and tangents about
The injustices of the Spanish Inquisition.
She spends most of her time here
Drifting off into her own space
Tethered only by a thin strand;
This other space, time, dimension
Is not so unlike where she is now.
She looks dazed, spacey, out of it, in the least
Though, in her mind,
She's wandering the ever-crowded halls
Of her should-be home,
A smile on her face, head held high
Ready to have a good time.
In this place,
Where hilarity lurks around most every corner
Friends, ready to attack hug, hide in the shadows
Memories are made, photos are taken,
And all chaos comes on Fridays.
She dreams about this place constantly
Wonders what it's like to actually experience
What she's been told so many stories about.
The bell rings, and she is awakened from her trance
Left to wonder, still, and try to live in the moment;
Live where she is now.





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