Picture courtesy www.boston.com
On the outskirts of town
Sits a desolate piece of land,
In front of it
Sits a battered wooden sign
Proclaiming these words
In fresh red paint,
HOPES AND DREAMS.
Here,
The dead bury the dead,
Dreams and hope
Buried alive amidst
The calls of crows
In black and white garbs.
Those incapable of dreaming,
People tired of dreams,
Others suffocating on hope,
Journey here with coffins on
Heads and shoulders.
The sound of wailing blots the sky
As sadness ripples the restless sands,
This is where hopes and dreams
Are laid to rest by the dead.
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