When dreaming,
My sunlight is sifted through
an air thick with dust and pollution.
My trees are ravaged streetlights.
My mountains are collosal concrete shells
that once scraped the sky.
When dreaming,
My fellow man is an emaciated bunch.
we starve for everything we once
had in abundance.
Air, water, warmth, food, compassion.
When dreaming,
the harshness is a glorious and welcomed change from this waking place we inhabit.
Because,
When dreaming,
at least the world has character.
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Submission Name: When Dreaming
