Dreams Poem by Blake Porter

Dreams live out in space,
Most people can only reach them while they sleep,
But a select few can access them whenever they please.
These are the dreamers,
The story tellers,
The thinkers.
These people hate sleeping,
They sleep because they have to, not to dream.
They can dream as they think, if they sleep, they are Missing out on the precious time to think.
And as time flies by,
These people are going extinct.
People just want to follow the main stream of things,
Take the easy way out.
Not to be seen as weird,
Not to have their ideas put into question and up for criticism,
Stand out from everyone else in fear of humiliation or creating enemies.
These thinkers are disappearing off the planet,
Never to be heard of again.
When you think of something,
Say it, speak your mind,
You may be 'wrong' to everyone else,
But it's you who thought it,
It doesn’t matter what other people say about your idea,
If you don't get your thoughts out they die,
And no one will ever get to hear the tale of their Greatness.