Out of this Dream

If this is a dream without being asleep

Reality that ceases to exist; is not true anymore

Can’t be touched or felt,

But inquired in imaginations

Why is the body so tamed?

Afraid to knock on the closed doors

There’s fragility and palpitations

Snatching away dreams that are available

Unwilling to share; an unholy plot

To monitor the thoughts

Every possible mind plugged to a network

Gardens and paradise are but poets’ words

Poor fragrances are hopeless imitation

Something which seems to be true

But this sleep is controversial

Yearning for that comfortable slumber

Dreams real, and not desperate

Without stalking life

For once, appreciate the freedom