The night is mine, and i'm confused, not even through a night of reflection could i tell if anything is real. I feel as if the world's dreams are not yet fulfilled, as if we are intoxicated without alcohol, we've reached a milestone without reaching anything. But whatever happens will atone it will atone as everything happens for a reason.
The thought of the difference between who we are and how we want to be is provoking, since there is two different pictures of us. How can items such as clothes and a stone alter this perception of who we are? Is this strike 1, strike 2 or the strike out of our society? Life's mysteries are all destined to happen as they do, they teach a lesson just like a parable.
And thus, to be or not to be should be the question, and all i've realised is that we truly live in a dream deferred.
/Absolutely Too good English
3 kommentarer:
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Langston Hughes
Handmaid's tale bland annat, och för övrigt fick jag "the night is mine" på min IOC!
Skicka en kommentar