I am starting to write my dream.
I am no longer waiting on them to be served.
The light that heats the table now keeps it cold.
The dark is holding my strings tight.
I just cannot find the words to write.
That will change within the day.
I go back to reality and that is not saying my name.
When will this happen, the time is clicking.
I just want to tell the stories that my dream has always heard.