A dreamer is someone who
Balances the love of their environment
With the spite of their own microcosm.
Distant, dissonant, and deluded
As they may be,
Their chords strike a hard nerve
Within their own love story.

I only wished I could have had more time
To think of polished, sugary rhymes.
I'm not worried about being strong
When I'm allowed to keep my feelings
And discard what hurts too much;
Like lemon juice, acerbic in my mouth
Or in their casual insults
On my healing wounds, aggravating pains
Striking a citrus, tender, pulpy rain.
I kept too many unnecessary feathers
That weighed down my ability to fly away
From their naysaying, extraneous side effects,
Flinching away from the curves of
Moral depreciation, an obese correlation.

The major key change was discordant from
The tonic I knew from Boston;
Whether it was pop from the West,
Or soda from the South,
The lovers and dreamers from all around
Knew when to ooze amity from their mouth.
It was collective, friendly, and amiable
And it contrasted from the other orifice
They encountered, a dirty taint, also collective.
Don't leave your oral fixation weakly protruding
When you have the ability to shut-up all brooding.