A Dream Deferred

I remember carrying around this poem with me in secondary school, and then in college. It’s like one of those things when you know that what you want to do is to write. Even when there seems to be nothing there or even when the words are overflowing. I will get to it, you tell yourself, eventually. And that’s exactly how it happens. Your life, your writing as something that happens gradually as you learn how to best yourself.


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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?