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by Christopher Shin

We watch the dreams
of others and the vision
of our perfect world,
and in it we see
hopes and inspiration.

Fictional and characters
of broken parts of us
that makes us bleed
from the pricks and
jabs of their jagged edges.

I envy their success,
but hate their triumpants
when all the despair is
only reflected back at me
like a crystal pool of glass.

Slowly I scramble to find
the pieces of me,
but deeply I am wounded by the
strings of the guitars of
music that screams louder
in the distance.

Unfortunately I am alone,
and destined to be happy
with the solitude.

So it ends and so it begins,
but slowly those dreams
become my inspiration.

04/26/2008

Posted on 04/27/2008
Copyright © 2025 Christopher Shin

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