Life isn’t always easy.
You wake before the sun,
Counting dollars for the roof overhead,
Still dreaming of the stars yet to come.

You work to survive,
But your soul aches to thrive.
There’s a version of us in a parallel place,
Still dancing barefoot on a midnight shore.

They told us, “Hard work pays off,”
But never said in what currency.
So we speak in “maybe someday” sighs,
Because the dream inside us never dies.

The Blunt Siren