Dreams

You are a pleasure to most, 

And a curse to some. 

You are a ghost,

That they can't covercome.

For those that fear, 

And those that submit.

You are never clear, 

You make people acquit.

You are an illusion, 

That everyone needs. 

You are the minds intusion, 

That grows roots and sprouts weeds.

But you give imagination and help escape reality, 

You are a mirror image of their personality.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world
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