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Replying to a comment on:
the Dreamer (Free verse) by darylchew He just sits in his dark, grey room now, lost in himself,
In his thoughts
Is it a form of escape, from the grappling hands of fate?
In deception he lies,
For he is a dreamer
He dreams.
Of playing all the pieces of Lifeâs repertoire,
There always doesnât seem to be enough time.
Will he ever act?
Walking with shuffling feet down the sheltered halls,
Throwing it all away in reckless abandon
He has time to kill,
Or will time be the death of him?
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