POEM: Dreams

dreams, my friend, are lost on you
you think them false when they are true
you think them true when they are truer
you think them from a subconscious sewer

you feed your monsters, but make them ride alone
then can’t tell the imposters when they’re full-grown
they say that nature outstrips nurture
and the seeker outwits the searcher

but who can know such things

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