Home » d'Verse Poets » Dreams


When I was little I dreamed

I would get the prince to

carry me away on a white horse

to a palace by the sea.


I would learn and study and

show the world how smart I was.

I would be a doctor or teacher

or anything to help people.


I didn’t know my dark prince

was a drug named alcohol,

carrying me away on waves of passion

to being a teenage mom.


I’m alone with only a baby and our bottles

sitting in the isolated ocean of

street life and overflowing dumpsters

numbed by alcohol and baby tears.


How did I end up in desperation here?

I dreamed the world would be mine.

I just didn’t know the world was so hard

and that I was just more trash on the street.


Submitting this to the open links for Real Toads and d’Verse Poets.

17 thoughts on “Dreams

  1. I think it’s sad that so many young ones fall prey to alcohol, or drugs, or peer pressure in either case. I can’t imagine anything complicating that more than being a young teenaged mother. Your poem speaks of how easily they can lose hope, when truthfully new hope can be just beginning for them. It’s so sad they don’t see that. This is a very sad poem…. Well done…..

  2. ugh it can be such a hard world…and you can end up in places you never dreamed and with princes that you never dreamed as well….felt this piece as i know those who have lived it….smiles.

  3. i worry for my grandchildren ~ alcohol and drugs and sex are all too much accepted, too easily available, too often portrayed as “cool” ~ a powerful write!
    Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

  4. You’ve rendered such episodes that afflicted many young girls. We’ve heard of such tales of inmates at half-way houses who cared to tell so that others are forewarned. Nice write though sad!


  5. Believing the fairy tales is a common fallacy, and whose fault is it? No one takes the blame. But also, no one is “just more trash on the street.” Believing that is the opposite extreme of believing in the fairy tale. SO to me this poem shows the right/wrong, no shade of grey, mind-set of a youth (like I was), feeling “the isolated ocean of / street life and overflowing dumpsters”–but I didn’t have the alcohol or the baby. I know that dragging myself up out of the mind-set only began when I hit bottom. The poem depicts this spiral, and the turn-around is next.

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