Junkyard of Forsaken Dreams
I often come and wander here,This consequence of our extremes,
Beyond the pale of want and need,
This junkyard of forsaken dreams.
There're palaces and fancy yachts,
The stuff that fame and fortune brings,
But photographs of children too,
And sometimes tarnished wedding rings.
Yet some dreams do not ask as much,
Perhaps a chance to walk again,
Some only want a bowl of rice,
Or freedom from the wars of men.
Some folks it seems will dream of wealth
While others mostly dream of love
There's much to learn about a man
From things he's always dreaming of.
Perhaps, one day our dreams get lost,
And we are lost as well it seems.
We roam a world bereft of hope;
A junkyard of forsaken dreams.
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