dreamdrafts.
why couldn't it be me? every time I remember, there's a hollow in my heart and no one knows how deep it goes: not because my heart is empty but because I'm so full of desire someone's out there in a place I want to be in a role I want to play but I'm the one who prayed I'm the one who crafted the dream I'm the one who read the books and wrote character studies I'm the one who ran deep into my own ambition and all I have left are saltwater tears and a heart overfull, over years of dreaming and nowhere to go with it. why am I here? what happened to the promises? and maybe I'm in denial, but what do I have to grieve? maybe losing these dreams is like losing lives; except these lives never existed outside of me, so maybe a part of me is lost too. what a puzzle grief is; what a puzzle I am. worlds collide behind my eyelids but the world outside my window leaves much to wish for, and desperation drifts into the mix. how much longer do I have to wait? Yo...