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