The Dream

 

He’d dreamed

a future of wealth

and abundance:

 

a world of harmony,

where disease,

war and famine

were abolished.

 

It was filled

with people born

of perfect genes:

 

a race of beauty

and symmetry,

where malformation

did not exist.

 

He told me

I was not in the dream.

 

I was too Irish,

too Moorish,

too Kurdish,

too Yiddish.

 

My crooked leg

would make me beg.

 

I was too autistic,

too artistic,

too atheistic

too altruistic.

 

My feckless way

was not Ok.

 

I was too poor,

too weird,

too black,

too feared.

 

My point of view

would never do.

 

He’s come to kill me.

 

 

© otreasaigh 2017
Views: 382
critique and comments welcome.

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4 Comments on "The Dream"

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Savvi
Member

An interesting read made all the better with the brevity, nice job, I like the ending too. Best Keith

Sweetwater
Member

I doubt this world will ever achieve what the dreamer hoped for, a sad reflection on the unfairness of life. Sue.

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