thoughts after waking up from a dream

after waking up from a dream
i decided to write my thoughts 
based off of the dream
as always scroll down first 
and click play if it is not auto
 playing and then read 

he burned his middle finger on his right hand
on a car cigarette lighter when he was a kid
the scar, lasting forever, in the shape of a T
he burned his hand by spilling boiling water on it
the blisters bubbled up for days
he burned his ankle once when a burning ember
fell into his shoe after he stomped on a fire
it took forever to take the shoe off it seemed
but the worst burn of all is when he got burned
by his hearts desires
burned by the love of his life
the world has always burned him throughout the years
in various different ways and in different times
no ashes left behind, just a loss of himself
smoke rises in the form of mental haze
fleeting thoughts and memories
a billowing pillar, overcast skies
he wasn't meant for this world
his heart was too big for such small spaces
an easy target
he never truly fit in anywhere he went
with such a big heart, it's no wonder he
was able to handle so much damage and burns
the older he got, the more out of place he felt
when he was a very little boy
between the ages of 1 and a half to 3, he used to cry for his mom's attention
but mom, having a newborn daughter, couldn't attend to him
so he would wait for her at her feet, sitting and
eventually laying on the ground,
but he would always fall asleep
before she was able to get to him
so then she would just put him in his bed.
but he had no memory of this until his mother
told him in his middle age
but it would echo in his mind
it brought memories to mind that he had long forgotten
the comforting feeling of cool slate floor tiles against his cheek
as he laid on the ground waiting
then to lift his head up and feel of his cool cheek with his hand
he often thought that it was so much better in those times
because there was, at least, something to comfort and soothe him
even if it was the cool slate floor tiles against his cheeks
and often times those slate tiles would also have puddles of his tears
he remembered talking to birds through his bedroom window
eventually learning how to whistle to call a flock of
birds to the roof of the neighbor's house
he always dreamt that one day he would find the beauty of life
and live in eternal peace and love, but eventually that dream,
turned into a torture, a fleeting aspiration that, like all the
other aspirations and dreams he once had, he had to let go of
the world has been at war with him since the day he was born
but he is tired these days.
oh
    so
        tired...