A poem about a constant struggle to achieve your lifelong dream. A few thoughts come to mind as you struggle to spot any four-leaf clovers. — The dream didn't happen yet,
40 years old,
a longing for brightness,
where is my four-leaf clover? The persistent darkness,
black and grey colours,
the waiting line has been too long,
I don’t even experience the faintest of moonlight. I hear werewolf's howling,
I refuse the calling for more darkness,
in…