Have your dreams died? Those aspirations of being an artist, or composing a chart-topper? Do you dare admit it, as you see your fantasies buried by time and failure? Such is a glimpse of everyday life...

Spend the afternoon
wasting away dreams of
fallen aspirations.
Grander things flowing
away from you,
sitting on the banks
of infinity's flood.

Gracefully depressed,
resting a mind inside
a worn out disc player,
hearing that your favorite
old singer has
put out another new flop.
The keys and chords
just don't seem to work like
they used to for him.
Bland tunes blend together,
as if an imitation
of oneself. The copy
of a worn out career.

Lost before your trek began,
awaiting the return of inspiration.
Success, the phantom, lingers
inside the room with
unrecognized genius.
The gloom of an
empty house leaves eyes searching.
Yet black ceiling, gray walls,
that's all that you can see
as the forgotten artist
who seeks a hit you already wrote
but which will never sell.

Reality hits hard,
as you have to admit,
at long last, that
your day will never come.