I dreamt of reality being a façade on the frustrated face of fabricated fairytales
Where black and white weren’t colors
& Our melanin had the least bit of substance to what we believed about one another
Where we walk on fear
Holding on to the lapels of chances
Breathing in rhythm,
Marching to the beat of our own dances
We’re just music in its purest form
When I dream of extended arms –
Reaching for the unreachable
Touching what isn’t tangible
We speak volumes, managing the unmanageable
Breaking bricks with our backsides
Uncovering reasons for the unreasonable
Making way for all things not feasible
Where we mold goals
Etching our stories with the tips of our fingers
I dreamt of reality –
Being just . . . . a dream