(no subject)

[intern_of_death]

my dreams are not mine to have.
like a thief my selfishness steals them away in the night.
he stands there and mocks me as i press my face to the shop window.
he smiles and sells my dreams to happy couples who walk away hand in hand.
he knows i will never take them back,
because guilt watches me through my reflection,
and i know that if i break the glass i will find the store empty,
the shelves covered in dust,
the price tags of my dreams littering the floor.