illusion is made up of innocence
and with the passing of years
each blow of disillusionment
builds another layer
solidifying
casting resentment
returning regret
disillusionment
what a terrible word
yet so real in my life
as I grow older, it seems
it grows older and wiser
until I feel another blow
that strikes ...
my hopes and dreams and wishes
and then I realize
I'm still so young inside!
How could I possibly still have dreams?
How could I be so naive?
How dare I hope..
I should know better.
