What happens to a dream detained?

Does its mortal life come to a tragic demise?
Like that of a mute poet dying into the form of a cicada
Who screams its poems unsaid to the skies

Can it easily be framed for guilt?
Like human souls captured by Polaroid cameras
That now hang on the walls of Wiccan covens
Their personal vintage oddities whose bodies now yellow
And begin to wilt

Or do they become wandering stars?
Like the inflamed bodies of fireflies
So what we can pick them off like fruit on a midsummer's night
Just to imprison them in marmalade jars
For memories sake

Do those dreams become wispy apparitions?
Like forgotten children that run away
And creep into the mouths of felines
Who breathe them in and embrace them for themselves
For they can not dream dreams

Does its broken form become worthy of legends?
Like that of Greek heroes battling ancient creatures
Or epic novels that can make hearts blush and yearn

Do they mate with one another?
And sew their puzzles together
Like the forms of Egyptian mythological creatures
Becoming sensuous pagans trying to seduce
Wanting to be realized once again

What happens to a dream rationalized?