The Broken Dreams

If only I had taken the Mask off my face on that fateful moment when I surrendered my entire being and destiny to the throes of this futile existence; If only I knew that being a man did not mean to simply please all who came but to do as the heart demands; I would not look back at my life with such repugnant disgust.

How I miss the spark of youth, the ability to rebel and the pleasure of doing the unthinkable!

Today, I stand here soaking the cold breeze of the after storm and I ask myself once again, who is to be blamed for the demise of my dreams? Who is to be blamed for the non-attainability of every beautiful dream I ever saw and still see? My dreams were never mine alone and yet I had to crush them all with my trampling feet and reluctant fist!

I shall dream more, for in my dreams alone do I still see some hope of survival; farcical as it may seem. Yet, how many more dreams to shatter, how many more hearts to be broken before I finally meet my end. How much longer to go before I get to wipe the tear laden story of my sordid past and write a chapter in my diary which actually does have an end, an end which justifies all the pains that crucify my heart tonight.

How much longer?