i got
dreams that
never fulfill
themselves
and i attribute
it to
bad luck or
even
fate.
i know how
to handle
all these and
learned to
live with all
of them
for i am the
father of
broken dreams
they all look
like broken bricks
red with
dried blood all
over
dead dreams are
my silent
victories
and i see all
of them
through their
dust and ashes
tomorrow
all rising
like a hundred
phoenix(es)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem