Our floor-
Three bodies consume.
Old wooden floors,
Noisy hinges-
Harnessing dreams
That we hope to one day own.

In a city
All mess
We strive
For what to us is unknown
Though we need it
To be our true own.
Will we make it?
Or be sucked in-
Oh the societal undertows.

I sit alone.
In the darkened cold-
Silence-
Stillness-
My thoughts solus
Drifting to places I wish to go.

Have you ever...
Felt scarred?
Cause you know
It'll be hard
To make it.
To make whatever it is you want
Your own?

We've all felt scarred.
In our thoughts
Hopes-
Tears fallen for yearnings
We strive to hold.

The apartment,
May just seem old
And cold,
But what it holds-
Three little human lives,
Painting their worlds whole
Fearing the fates and fortunes
Society folds.

I'll wish big
And dream hard.
I'll paint it all in gold-
Live simple.
Part of this all,
Its just having that dream.
Surreal
Or real,
Fighting these fears-
That is what will steer
Visionaries to come in clear.