Let me dream.

Let me dream about me—  

Who was it I wanted to be?  

A blue-collar owner?  

A drunk, never sober?  

A lawyer, a doctor, a soldier?  

A flop? A GOAT? Too much?  

More than I could touch?  

I forgot.  

I did. I’d lost it—  

My path, my way—  

I crossed it,  

Then ran away.  

I wish I could.  

I would.  

I will.  

But it never happened.  

That dream—  

It was priceless,  

But poor  

And childish.  

Now all I have is  

Work.  

And rubbish.  

Take-outs.  

Go-outs.  

Eat-outs.  

Burn-out.