The Unfolding Reflection Of Broken Mirrors And Broken Dreams: A creative piece on the illusion of passion, aging, and time.
Of Broken Dreams
“Bring me back to my youth”, you hope.
In youth, you grow in your belief.
As you are, you are raised to chase the twinkle in your eyes, to surpass all boundaries; encouraged to do the impossible.
Spoon-fed and grown, only to find yourself growing out from your initial wants.
You begin a chase for other people and other things, often at the same time.
It has you, you become lost in the Charade, the Smoke and Mirrors, the Grand Illusion.
You chase, and chase, and are urged to chase.
Now, the continuously regurgitative commodity of existence has you.
And now, scrambling towards the finish, only to find yourself through another left turn, you confront your internal debate; a cackle, a roar, a mindless exacerbation of importance.
Now when life finds you, looking back at you through the mirage of society, Do you come to believe the miserable consumption of time that has elapsed you in your tracks?
“Bring me back to my youth”, you hope.
Hope you! “Bring me back to my youth”
The broken dream has broken you, the broken dream has, the broken dream is.
With despondence and broken dreams,
Littermature.
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