The Dream I Sing
I sing my dream
to absolute extremes,
with the pen
I illustrate and let you in.
To a soul
that lives on
but weary,
the heart is painfully teary.
Bound by the color you see,
to grasp proper history
only helps me
to be free.
Although color I try not to see,
life is indeed of the educational variety.
Through its rarities
I find my reflection in society
invisible
withering away without a principle.
Dying in vain,
while trying to maintain,
but yet I sing my dreams
with my theme
of struggle
and everything it brings.
I know there will be anguish
of my heart’s written language
to suffer and suffice.
Oh, this world is far from paradise
so I know
I have a long way to go.
