the dreams of dead women

The Dreams of Dead Women

 

I dream the dreams of dead women

Of Victoria and Joan and Anne

I see their vision and hope their hopes

And drown in their sea of despair

 

I wade through the dreams of dead women

And seek their triumphs through death.

I cannot escape from the cry of the graves,

But join in the chorus of screams.

 

And What if Shakespeare had a sister?

Would she have been just as blessed

With a talent for pointing out my soul

But she wouldn’t even have a chance.

 

For the dreams of dead women confound me,

They’ve coursed their way into my soul.

Women who only needed that one chance

To shine and work and live out their dreams.

 

We still are the disenfranchised

Along with the old and the young.

And those who won’t fit into man’s little box

We lose at the turn of the tide.

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