Our Future Died

I passed by a park abundant with children

It smelled of sunscreen and youth

My skin chilled at the breeze 

carrying their budding dreams 

I was once a child

I recall feeling optimistic of my dreams,

but now I dream slept-on dreams 

that turn to night mares 

haunting me when I awake

My dreams lie on pillows 

I can not get them to jump in my pockets

before i walk out the door

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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