It's Better With Your Eyes Closed

I once dreamed of touching the clouds, and remembered how it felt against my palms — smooth and fluffy, like cotton candy.

I once dreamed of soaring high above cerulean skies, and remembered how it felt when my wings glided against the wind — surreal and breathtaking.

But then I woke up, and I glanced at my makeshift bed — a piece of cardboard, and took in my filthy clothes and dirty nails,

And I remembered that I couldn't touch the clouds, for they are too far to reach with my tiny, outstretched hands,

And I remembered that I couldn't fly high up the skies, for I am nothing but a caged bird trapped behind bars made of cobalt and steel, locked inside a world of muddled greys with not enough rays of hope.

.

.

.

Someone once said that if you don't like what you see, you should close your eyes, so I do just that, and then I do the only thing I could,

I dream,

and dream,

and dream,

and dream,

.....