Broken Dreams

The doctor,
Has medicines
For most things;
But none,
For
Broken dreams.

This body,
can endure
punishments; plenty from
Diseases but
Not,
Broken dreams.

The world
Tells me:
Take it easy.
Don’t Dream.
Just
be happy.

They don’t
Care, if
I live unhappy;
Or live,
Without
Any hope.

They hope
Only, that
I live; long
enough to
forgive
their betrayal.

How they
played me,
with their trickery;
making me
smother
my dreams.

They will
play you,
The same way;
and you’ll
murder
for them.

They will
trick you,
into ripping out
your own
heart
for them.

They will
convince you,
that it’s only
common sense
you
fit in.

They will
assure you;
that they too,
once were
like
you are.

That they
cured themselves,
of their deliriums,
this way;
once
long ago.

That they
too murdered,
all their dreams;
because ‘they’
told
them so.

And ‘they’
did so,
for ‘them’ too;
and others,
for
many others.

Don’t heed
‘their’ advice,
they lack imagination;
but you,
will
die. Painfully.

The doctors
have medicines,
for many things;
but none,
for
broken dreams.

© Jay Kaushal

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