she suggested we muse on a romantic dream
of a house and kids – white picket fence and all,
my soft heart has long yearned for that ideal love
but I hate white picket fences and dull lawns.
I am a skid mark on the street in that dream
a shadow in the night they're too afraid to face.
that fantasy never truly belonged to me,
implanted into my mind by careless fictions,
sweet lies that sought to sell us a lifestyle:
a box to live in for marketed bliss.
I could not bring myself to answer her
let those who yet sleep continue to dream.
-Zero
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