some dreams are born dead,
some are buried alive,
some enjoy a long life,
some, from yourself you hide,


on the canvas of eyes painted by the heart,
some come true, some scoffed in life's mart,
they make you smile and make you cry,
without water of love, they dry,

from the womb of expectations, they take birth,
strong will shows them the firth,
happiness they spread, when come true,
broken, terrible pain grews,


good and bad, such are dreams,
their fulfillment sole aim seems,
if destiny's hand be, they spread colour bright,
or else life become listless, a sad sight.