Repercussions of Being an Optimist


I love dream catchers and read fancy fables,

I am constantly willing to turn tables.

I dream of sunsets and serenades,

When nostalgia kicks in and the present fades.

My haunted heart appreciates smiles even from mannequins,

And I see helplessness in the eyes of the ones committing sins.


When I see shades of dull black and greys,

For mercy my innocent heart prays.

I gain pleasure from the fictional world,

As I sit with my book, up-curled.

I see beauty in pain and discover music in noise,

My inside is a volcano, outside – pensive and poised.


I want to know everything way too soon,

Who said inquisitiveness is a boon?

Weaving the real life into a fictional story,

I bask in the surreal glory.

In my head I take the road less taken,

All this isn’t in my sleep, you’re mistaken.


I day dream and create situations unreal,

As I give my heart the time to heal.

I know right now there is no music and dance,

But in a better time, I’d give love a chance.

Gathering gold, I am a self-proclaimed alchemist,

Dealing with the repercussions of being an optimist.


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