Realists with fantasies,
Understanding what will never be,
Can't be, but still desirous,
Elusive want of all of us,
Never-to-be-fulfilled soul,
No thing ever to make us whole,
Of who we could be, should be,
But not be, for eternity.

Fickle fate has dealt the hand,
And sharks play well and understand,
But still it's hard to swallow,
Within our selves we wallow,
With moments of forgetting all,
Such bliss before the bitter fall,
When memory of the lack,
Returns in force to take hope back.

And so trudge on we must go forth,
And find in life some other worth,
To make us all we can be,
Within this harsh reality,
Live on will our fantasy,
If just to save our sanity,
Reality's just okay,
Within our dreams we choose to play.

tags: poetry  

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