Dream of me.

Dreams can be drawn,
imagination can be forgotten.
But if I cannot touch-
then I must be blind.

The un-real reality,
of the figments which appear.
Are more my life,
those those old polaroids.

Skirts touching savanna,
people rushing to my side.
With arms of sunlight,
it cannot defeat me.

It bears down hard,
makes me stumble quick.
But deep in my mind,
I am like moth to flame.

Hooded personalities here,
lift it up, lift it up.
If only I weren't so numb,
and knew where to clasp.

Board the railroad train,
for it calls out to you.
Sir, where are the tickets?
Oh right, I'm invisible.

Toss away real treasures,
and imagine different destinies.
Just like a cup of poison,
isn't life vile?