Dreaming Mercy

These dreams they lied to us
In our youth, but reality was a worse dream
With worse opportunities for growth
We survived without dreaming, finally
Growing old, it was to be
The end of youth, our words of hope
We stored in others
Before a place, as eyes turned away
We dream the most simple things
In our youth, that come like thunder
So much beauty in people and books
That little by little we turn
Our illusions into white blooms that drift
As petals down the river of time
Because dreaming was how we lived
Because dreaming was how we loved
We had artful minds till the day we died
In a way I suppose, we were always young.