[Poem] Ghost of dreams

I’m looking down on a river of dreams,
lost, forgotten, stolen, kidnaped memories,
that long disappeared in a fog of people,
and their only trace is just a small ripple.
Like Dumbledore storing memories in a pot,
I am throwing mine, tied up to a rock,
so they could stay down, never float back up,
on the river bed, their eternal sleep
has long been set up.

Even though is long, since the dreams are dead
eternally laying, on the river’s bed,
they come back to haunt me, I come in my sleep,
and they tell me stories, that I’m theirs to keep.
I belong to them, they belong to me,
Even if they're dead, they’ll continue to be,
and they will come back, they will stalk my mind,
until I wake up and my purpose’s find.

Image source:Pixabay