Our Future Died
I passed by a park abundant with children
It smelled of sunscreen and youth
My skin chilled at the breeze
carrying their budding dreams
I was once a child
I recall feeling optimistic of my dreams,
but now I dream slept-on dreams
that turn to night mares
haunting me when I awake
My dreams lie on pillows
I can not get them to jump in my pockets
before i walk out the door
This poem is about:
Me
Our world