Futility
with each revelation of reality
dreams become distant
thoughts blocked
by the utter futility of regarding
things not meant for you
the time is distant yet lucid
when everything seemed achievable
and you dreamt
but all paths to possibility are now
obscured,
guarded by truth,
limited by reason
real unreal worries ushering
the thoughts away- everytime
they tried to get back at fantasies
yes fantasies is what they are now
the sheer invariance of state
the unwillingness of carrying on
the nearness of the coming day
to sleep the tired mind gives way
