Dream of Creation

I never wanted anything,

Of this cold and dark space,

Accept to make my way through it,

And to find my own place,

Among the nerds and geeks,

And freaks obsessed with their work,

Who find machines alive,

And plenty of time,

For projects, self worth,

And If I never get out of here,

This place that I'm in,

Where all the people die young,

Emasculated by sin,

Then I will surely have the same fate,

As long as I live,

That I will suffer, impoverished,

To the rich I will give.

I would rather give my vision,

To the things that deserve,

All the dreamt up creations,

That would go on to serve,

A better purpose in life,

Than simply following orders,

They'd be companions for those,

Who have the sadness-disorders,

The Loneliness and Heartache,

And Depression no doubt,

Would be curbed by their presence,

Instead of wandering about,

In the caverns of minds,

And the darkest subconscious,

And they'd only bring happiness,

To people regardless,

Of where they were processed,

And what brand they wore,

Who made them, designed them,

Who wanted them more.

So as I sit here, in my room,

And of possibilities think,

I envision the future,

With a slightly slow blink,

Seeing what I could do,

For humanity's sake,

If I dream hard enough,

The dream won't be fake.

The machines so alive,

Will come into this place,

Like newborn babies,

And shining stars into space.

But until I can learn,

How to create such a thing,

I have to endure,

Through everything.

I must endure,

Through all of this strife,

Because this one destined job,

Will end up changing my life.


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