I saw a summerset upon a dream that was not met.
An object of possibilities, drenched in ideas I bleed.
I pondered upon a golden ticket, hoping some scheme would set.
But forged in fire I had let, a silver ticket is all I met.
It’s not a tragedy when my dear dreams meet misery.
It’s just how it was meant to be as sad songs from me seem to flee.
Back to the forge to dream, a new dream of possibility.
Or give up on being me and let the darkness in you see.