Ode to Langston Hughes by Jhantu Randall

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What becomes of a dream deferred?
Does it go away never to be seen or heard?
If it never comes to fruition, does it float away?
Or does it embed itself in the subconscious of my brain?
Is it a goal or merely a dream?
Maybe it’s a future inevitability I can’t yet perceive
Is it a luxury truly predestined for me?
Or is it just an array of random events lined up with my beliefs?
When it’s there, is it I choose not to see but rather to stare?
Afraid to take charge as I claim I never cared
Talent and success aren't always synonymous
But I can’t accept just part of it; in the end I must inherit all of it
Live by the blank page, it’s so enticing
Little things, like getting a cupcake with extra icing
Write and relive every experience in these words
So tell me, what becomes of a dream deferred?

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