The dream squashers are everywhere,
ready with their steel toed boots
to stomp all over the stars in your eyes.
Smashing your windows with words 
full of sledgehammers and grenades,
hoping to leave ashes and shards 
in their wake.  
After all, why not let you clean up
the mess you carefully crafted together
with hopes and wishes and fears
and desires and work?
 
Do you truly know them? 
Do they hold the key to your heart?
Do they know better than all 
you've put your biologicals in?
And when you look in their eyes,
do they see as you do?
They can't reflect back when
they couldn't kept their own stars lit.
 
So pick them up, pick up the pieces,
put them back together with
tears and duct tape and hope
and desires and dreams,
because once you believe 
with all the fibers and 
ancestral blood that runs 
through you, 
nothing can shake your foundation,
you earthquake.