Broken Minds and Broker Dreams

Don’t speak of hope, for I dismay

the very word, I cannot say!

A drug! Addiction! And to what?

A brighter future? You’re a twat!

Dreamers dream, not knowing better

if the time is right, or, whether,

their little ruse, long overdue,

should be called out; they have no clue!

With heavy brow, absorbing thoughts

come bearing down, and yet, not lots

are able to discern the truth

for what’s the mind, not spiteful youth?

From fairy tales, I keep away

my broken mind, they cannot sway.

I once believed, don’t get me wrong,

and not just many, they were throng!