By Shawn Marc B. Carreon

A door without its hinges, in your own little room,
Fantasies frolic like June’s summer bloom,
Dazed in your own creation, within chirps of cries,
Gazing into your own temptations, like love at first sight.

Sleeping so deep, so smooth and so sound,
Bound to your dreams, it illuminates a crowd.
You dive into unknown waters, like a leap of faith,
Although when you wake up, it leaves a bitter aftertaste.

Reality often strikes when you’re vulnerable,
Impaling you with this world, holding on to your saddle.
Dreams, although you’d want it to be real,
Nothing’s more beautiful than the gift that’s here.


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