Dressed in dreams,
We do not sleep.
Our minds are lost,
Not ours to keep.
Stars are strangers,
Taught to weep.
Our future lost,
Twas ours too steep?
Friends or follies,
At a low.
A frugal bounty,
A heart to stow.
Friends or follies,
A common foe.
The fickle bounty,
We won’t let go.
Isaac Olajos
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