I think I was made for melancholy....

The cruelty of reality
comes with each new day
As the sleeping sands of dreaming
Diminish in morning's dawn
The shadowy ghosts of hopes and dreams
Fade with the rays of the sun
If only time could stand still
In the breath captured before waking
In the moment where wanting is real
And desires flame into tangibility
I cling to the mists of fantasy
But everyday, I walk out my door
With the knowledge that my dreams
Are no more.