Mirage

Mirage

They say they want to live in dreams,
And so I question that.
Why? Do they know what they are saying?
What that really means?

In the morning I go to work,
I drink my coffee and do my deed.
Look for my answer,
I can only concede.
 
I pass the filter, the green, my very being.
Only hoping for the call,
To that cloud labelled 9.
Instead, I drive home past all the bees.

They're blind robots.
No, Not all of them.
Some have found it,
Some have gone from clouds to pillows,
Pillows to clouds.
Literally. Figuratively. Metaphorically.
Perfectly.

They smile in their joy.
I sit and read,
Or so I say;
But all I really do, is sit on this carousel,
And draw my false parallels.

They tell me to walk,
To write, and make lists.
Organize and rationalize.

But all I do is hesitate. Deliberate.
I deviate.
While I try to create,
A fate that will never be.
And that's why it just sounds so silly.

But they say, shoot for the stars,
And you'll at least land on a cloud.
I like clouds, but you can fall through.
Even though, sometimes I like rain.

They say when you're up there,
You'll smile as the sun graces you.
And I do, I smile.
And they say I look happy.

I lock my door, I go to bed.
The sun is gone, and that's when it happens.
I realize, criticize, hypothesize, rationalize.
And it's silly again.

The sun is gone; the clouds rumble and roar.
The rain pours.
They say I'm happy.
Realize. Criticize. Lies. 

I don't want to live in a dream.
I want it to be.

But then tell me, why do those rhymes sound so damn stupid?
Create, deliberate, hesitate, deviate, fate, too late.

Why is it, that the day is sweet?
But the night brings out the truth;
Only to have the morning destroy it.

Why does it rain?