I Have Lived Like Poem by gregory collins

The dreams aren't ours anymore, i am sure of this.
All God's creatures are unable to even fathom Eden.
It is very difficult for me to breathe for us both.
The mirrors are deep and always thinking of my own country.
The world is like the beads of a broken rosary amoung giggling nuns,
and i think Hell without a trial is how everything will turn out.
Where everybody's favorite prison is love,
and the guardians of those walls:
Where I guess i just hope my soul might be known,
for being kind to me.