Dreams, Dreams

dreams, dreams
some vivid
some clean
some filthy
some pristine
most changed
never the same
unwittingly, unknown
its all just a game
a window
a door
a defense
or metaphor
chains
or a cell
heaven
or hell
inbetween
or way too far
just out of reach

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poem by N.W. Carney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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