Blueprints and Bruises

They told me the Dream was paved in gold,

A picket fence, a job, and a home

But I found it chalked in stories bold,

On sidewalks cracked where dreamers roam.

It whispers through the factory hum,

In lunch breaks, prayers, and unpaid dues,

It dances where the rebels drum,

And sleeps beneath the landlord’s shoes.

I saw it stitched in Mama’s hands,

In every shift she didn’t miss,

I heard it sung in marching bands,

Then silenced by a clenched fist.

It’s not a thing you buy or own,

Not just a flag or mortgage rate

It’s built in how we stand alone,

And how we rise when dreams deflate.

It’s freedom with a shadow side,

A myth we chase, a truth we bend,

But still we walk, with stubborn pride,

And write new verses to amend.

So here I stand, no suit, no crown,

Just ink and breath and calloused feet

I dream aloud, I won’t back down,

I make this Dream on every street.