My Grandiose

And the old men gather in the corner
discussing life back when they were juniors
Embellishing the myths that now forms the memories
of once when they were seniors
And in the distance of that very corner
standing silently in their shadows, the Dream Collector
For he who have long lost all dreams
can do nothing more than collect the stories told
He listens quietly, patiently not wishing to disturb
the retelling of how his life will unfold

From the many remnants and broken pieces of lives that
could have, should have, never did manage to be
He wonders, what happened to me
And as their collective excitement grows
and with each corresponding wave of laughter, he knows
Soon will come that sinking feeling of silence
That unspoken retreat from happiness,
The pianissimo!

Something about the awkwardness of having nothing more to say
The unyielding yawns, the pointless annotations,
Yap! ~ Ah Well! ~ So it goes!~
And as if all were tethered to that silence
each seeking to be rescued from themselves
as if time was the only salvation from their grandiose
to once again return anew upon a fresh light
to begin the retelling of stories so many times told
and it is ok cause no one questions the facts when you’re old




Choose Living Over Existing(CLOE)Gender Free Writer(GFW), MartialArts-Auth"The Spirit That Guides Us" "Noir AM""The Lottery"

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