My Lost Dreams
What happens to those lost dreams of ours?
My Lost Dreams
I wanted to be many things growing up
I wanted to be all the possible things in the world
My soul was greedy like that
But there wasn’t enough time, tolerance or energy for me to be those things
So, one by one I watched the dreams die, the memories fade
But of all the things I wanted to be
I wanted most to be someone great
I wanted to bring change, help someone heal
Most of all I wanted to die out quickly and suddenly
You see, I wanted to be like a beautiful firework
Illuminating the night sky for just a moment
Piercing the minds of all who saw me with color
For that moment they stop and stared. “Wow”
Then I faded out of sight, returned to ashes
Scattering across the hearts of those below
But I burned out somewhere along the way
My lit fuse extinguished by life
Thrown in a box of fireworks to be used another year
But every year it rained, and there I sat collecting dust
Wondering if I could ever see the sky one last time
There were so many things I couldn’t become
That loved ones wanted me to
A fool put on the pedestal and treated like a king
But a fool I was, and no more than a fool could I be
So many branches of opportunity lost on my tree
I wanted no one to look up to me
Sitting in my burning tree
“Be this, be that, do more, do this” They sounded like a banshee
When was it my turn to be free?
What about my life? What about my dreams?
What about the hope I lost? The things I could never be?
Why was I told I never mattered but others did?
Why were my dreams less important?
I was told by the world I was self-centered, selfish
As if I was the problem
But all I wanted was some peace
About the Creator
Matthew Mccahey
I want to use stories and life experiences to allow others to be open about their own.
https://linktr.ee/Authormack729
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Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insight
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Comments (2)
So rich in imagery and emotion! This poem brings on so many memories of times when I was passed over, never got to try or do the things I wanted to, and felt like my aspirations were not important. It also reminds me that they are, and it is never too late as long as we are breathing. I subscribed to you long ago and have not seen any of your work for a while. This was a good one to reconnect on!
Ah, this was so raw and real. Relatable. These lines really spoke to me, 'Thrown in a box of fireworks to be used another year But every year it rained, and there I sat collecting dust' Well done, you have a new subscriber :)