Hope and dreams leak from me.

Pooling at the lowest points of my being.

A concoction brewed over a period of years.

Slowly becoming a better medicine for me and others.

A balm that can heal the deepest hurt as long as you take enough.

This precious never seems to work on the cracks in me however.

***

Maybe that is why I turned out the way I have.

My body was given dreams too big for it.

The pressure built and built until my vase cracked.

No ability to overflow any other way.

My lid is high quality enough to hang in there.

So hopes and dreams broke free in places where I was weaker.

***

Before I knew it, I was so much more broken than others seemed.

It has to be by design however.

Why else would I be given such big hopes and dreams?

I just have to remember the best part as it runs down.

I may be broken up and cracked but the liquid is free.

No easier method for sharing those hopes and dreams.