The Plight of a Dreamer

This is in response to a daily prompt post here

The Plight of a Dreamer

He graced the clutches of death

like he was delivered from the womb

unknowingly in anguish

weak from each corner.

Then he had only entered

a sheltered life of bliss

where dreams were his cradle master

and the monsters were a nightly mist.

Now he had been wretched up

by the scars of a vicious past

when he carried the dreams

of a suckling child

to a world filled with hunger.

He wanted to show them

what dreams could be,

he wanted to lead them

in a hopelessly hopeful,

path of creed.

The world had no eyes,

for vivid change

and seldom did it ponder

for things instead of greed and pain.

The dreamer stead past

with stories of love from agony,

trying ease them to enlightenment,

show them a tomorrow of betterment.

The world stood its gaze

and set to destroy,

the youth of dreamer,

the ideals of a fighter.

Inflicting scars upon many,

screaming rivers,

of the tears that blood shed.

They dragged him to his wooden end

in the ground deep below

and never looked to wonder

how the grounded seeds

sprout to grow.

The dreamer decomposing

killed off in a heavy blow

but a dream only sprouts

filling the air with a righteous glow.

Image Credits: Vladstudio


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