khrishna grace

Just an analog girl in a digital world…

A Dream Deferred

 

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?

 

—Langston Hughes (1902-1967)

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