My Dreams Deferred

Another poem that accurately fits where I am in my life right now. I'm only 24, yet I feel like my life is over. I feel like my dreams will never be achieved, so there's no point wasting my time with them. Sad, no?

A Dream Deferred

by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?