To Dream

Even now I find myself dreaming;

Dreaming of the things I can and can't do.

Often my dreams are fancies

Contrived by my fear of failure.

This fear so real it grasps my gut

And sends it a flutter.

Making it hard to know if my life is going right

Or slowly snowballing out of control.

How it makes me wish to be in Wonderland where everything that isn't is,

And how I wish that in that world Edgar Alan Poe will read his poems to me.

But it can't be so and so I turn to the closest thing on hand,

Poems and my dreams.

Like most art,

New and old poems are proof of failure turned success.

A success I long for, but also shy away from.

For this immortalization in words will be picked cleaned by students,

Attempting to analyze the meaning each line contains.

The only meaning that I have found,

No matter the poem, short story, novella, or novel,

Is that to reach success, you've got to put yourself out there and fail.

This poem and the others that I have written and will write

All show that I'm trying.

I'm trying to get my voice out there as many authors have done before;

I'm trying to reach success in this and other literary forms;

And I'm trying to prove to myself that not every word I write

Leads to immediate failure.

And I dream of writing something successful,

But I'm still scrambling and stumbling through my own personal failures.

So, for now I'll keep dreaming,

'Cause to dream is to keep on going;

And the further I go, the closer I come to the success I dream of.