Our Phantom Dreams

Broken and torn,
Garbage on the street.
We die and then we’re born,
Winning until defeat.

Shaken up, unsteady,
We stumble into fate.
Unprepared, but somehow ready,
Early to be late.

Suns rising and setting,
Confusing all along.
Looking back and regretting,
Righting what was wrong.

Unrushed, so we hurry,
Make it harder than it seems.
At peace we find worry,
Seeking out our phantom dreams.