Dreams rarely do come true,
For they are formed in the world of your mind,
That's created by you,
Like a mirror you can only reflect,
But just outside the frame,
Are complicated weaves of real'ty,
Inside which those images are contained.
Which is proof the world's not in your head,
It's in other heads, too,
All with their own way of reflecting yours,
With dreams that ne'er came true,
But it's alright,
One day you will just die,
Like billions of people died before you,
Unbounded by their mind's reflected light.
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