Disappointment

is what this poem is...just kidding (at least I hope so). I will expand upon this soon. Consider this part 1...


The cerebral layers of my mind are aged
Its grey matter deteriorates, repercussions of war that was waged,
Deep within the battlefield of my brain,
Looking around at the aftermath, efforts to find survivors are vain
Dreams deferred lie broken, robbed of all their vibrant Hughes (hues)
Expectations lie shattered, their shards pierce, cut, and bruise
Yes, my mind is a battlefield
My brain, serving as a stage for both expectation and reality,
Though both once grew up together, living peacefully in neutrality,
Now, brutal battles break peace and shatter tranquility,
Lucid dreams that once soared, fly no more,
They sink down to the floor, simply another casualty of this war…
Though they occupy the same place, the can’t meet face to face
Both come from different worlds…
Expectation resides in my imaginary castles and makes its bed amongst the stars
Reality sleeps on cracked and brackish pavement, sustained by the venomous exhaust from cars
Like Cain and Abel, as soon as I wake they offer me their first fruits
Depending on which I take, my day can take on two different moods
With expectation, I can peruse and live out my fantasies,
Yet when I see reality, I realize that all I imagined was a fallacy
That the world’s physicality cannot beat the pristine images of my mind,
I then realize that my expectations are unreasonable; I have been blind
Yet reality’s present company keeps my lofty dreams locked away,
Their flesh deteriorates, and I see that nothing gold can stay
So when expectations prove too grand, and my present realities do not reflect perfection,
It is not sadness or anger that I feel; instead I been infected
By a new type of feeling that numbs my veins like poison
Rooted in the failures of expectations and reality, is disappointment