Dreamers are the saviours of the world

An empty canvas

A blank sheet

A bleeding brush

A heart to heal

 

A deserted street

Amidst the chaos of life

A silent night

waiting to thrive

 

Oblivious to crowds

enraged to fight

dreamers are slaves

but to the pen’s might

 

As the ink pierces

across the lines

sketching a world

of it own ryhme

 

In the shackles of thoughts

a rambunctious mind

in a parallel world

The saviours of time…

 

 

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