“Dare to dream”, they say.

It’s the theme of everything these days.

A thousand posters tritely line the walls,

Each variation of sameness projects the call…

“Do it, do it!” puppies with wide eyes

And white checkmarks demand.

If you can’t, you just aren’t believing enough;

If you don’t, well, you just have idle hands.

“Dare to dream,” they cry.

Yet they never add that the “dream” must be the thing they supply.

All others are stamped unacceptable, 

Unceremoniously tossed in the receptacle.

My only recourse seems to lie in ripping the posters from my landscape altogether,

Wadding them with zest as I resist to fit

Their standard, one-size-for-all shapes and whatevers .

“Dream? Yes, I will dare, ” I reply.

“But, in my own way and time, I will dare to reach my own version of sky…”

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