I wanted to go chasing clouds
Finding comfort in its variability.
But I had dirty clever hands blessing my sanity,
Hands I believed to be God’s own…
Blessing fused with planned lies.
When I sang of my dream,
They applauded and believed in me.
They handed me a net
And said they did let me go free.
Drenched with failure
With the net I returned.
I sobbed in the dark
And they smirked and laughed.
Why did I believe?
Why did I not doubt the crooked smile?
Fools like me lie in the dark
And die with dreams unseen.