Growing Up in small towns,
You are always sold this dream.
of how it would look like,
on the other side of the stream.
Dream of city skylines,
with their backdrop azure.
Like a lyric etched in heaven,
so pious and so pure.
so you dive right into the stream,
and swim against the tide.
ceding everything you own,
just to get on that side.
But the other side looks distant,
from whatever you’ve been told.
And the sight of the skyline,
Still miles away to behold.
And anywhere you eye,
There’s hunger, there’s pain.
”But why should I be caring
they are anyways slain”.
And then you look around
You see another stream
”Maybe crossing this one
Would lead me to my dream”.
But the Streams never end,
Nor does your Chase.
What began as a dream
Has turned into a race.
But it’s too late now,
Too late to realize
”Going back to my small town
would not be that wise.”
”So what should I do?
I am running out of breath
And This is not how I want to look like
When I finally meet death”.
”So maybe I should stop”
Atleast Pause for a bit
And just gaze back how I started
And the times I almost quit”
So take a deep breath,
Lay back and smile.
And Just Dream again
Cause it’s been a while.