In our dream factory*

We are not made for this world
Its mundane routine and daily hardships
We are children of the stars
We feed on sunrays
Inhale the smell of raindrops
Exhale fantasy
We live in a dream factory
Where everything is possible
Where boundaries are skyline
We are conceived from illusion
And illusion we lust for? To remain
We inject ourselves with daily doses of philosophy
We come up with impractical theories
Test our capacities to draft our thoughts
Using threads of dreams
Painting with a brush of memories
A poem
Someone somewhere will read
And will realize that
We are not made for this world
Its mundane routine and daily hardships