Some dreams are

Quite plain and simple

But when come true

Leave you helpless and crippled

 

Few things remain

Only in closed fists

When fist opened

Dreams become fog and mist

 

Often small things

Matter the most

Selfish people

Murmur the toasts

 

But as weather turns

Slowly and slowly

Strength comes to

Frazzle and frailly

 

Often freaks make

Everything in order

As the time we have

Becomes shorter and shorter

 

At last comes

The final day

Mixed feelings of hatred

And of gay

 

All the hard work

Evoked in one go

All dreams depend

On the final show