still dreaming

On any other day
I would whisk you away
To a never ending neverland
Where dream don’t grow up
And walk away;
Cause with you they’d know how to fly.
And if you couldn’t find any pixie dust,
I’d wipe it off your cheek,
Where angels come to rest.

But this is just another day,
In a fallen world.
Where dreams don’t grow up,
And perhaps that’s the problem.
Molded more than created;
Where pixie dust is found in the pages
Of old libraries.
Brand new but never used;
Dusted done but never finished.

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