// the death of a dream //

via pinterest

dreams sail up so high,

with trails like rockets,

whistling and calling you to look, look up

only to then burst like a firework,

with a bang, showering down glitter in streams

its last glory sparkling brighter as it descends,

stinging like a spark where it touches you,

until all thats left as you stare 

from the ground to the empty sky

is the smoke and the echoes,

the feelings,

and the memory.

xx angsty little thing xx