When Dreamers Die

It was so quiet when the music stopped
So empty when the bottom dropped
So somber when the dreamers lay
Down to die, their heartstrings frayed
The waking hours became too real
No dreams to conjure up their zeal
And then the night, too, ceased to give
A single dream to help them live
It withered them like winter does
But coated them with soot and rust
It caked their lungs in deathly plaque
And left their souls a ghastly black
Oh how they would have sacrificed
To find and bring their dreams to life
A hope on which their eyes to fix
Like miracles or magic tricks
But Grim is a possessive ghoul
So careful with his spirit pool
And once a dream is laid to rest,
It cannot be bought back from death