I shed the things of my past
like baggage left
at a former house.
I see the changes
over time
like an evolution
of myself.
I feel the soft skin beneath
and the blood rushes.
Counting the stars
while wishing
these dreams
could ever be true.
I lay in bed wondering,
is this all there will ever be?
I keep hope
despite the odds.
Is this real living
or am I a captive of my dreams?
A dream is worth the waiting.
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