"Clinging to a Dream"
i can see her,
coming in and
out of focus,
fading away.
i grab on and
cling to her skirt,
fluttering about.
she's smiling but
fading away.
my gal friday,
i lament her,
galatea.
buried in the
sands of daylight:
reality.
if this is my
awakening
then why do i
still want to dream
of beloved
galatea?
and i see her
companion,
lying headless,
an object of
my mockery
once and long past.
it's bitter now,
and i am the
one that is mocked.
i remember
the words upon
his pedestal:
"I am Ozymandias, King of Kings! Look upon my works ye mighty, and despair!"
the glorious
day beckons to
me. attrition
wins.
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