Hanging on to words

...in all that space inhabited by silence, there are a lot of dreams I might have missed, a lot of dreams to fill the gap the distance left and my beliefs. They turn and twist to constantly fill up that space and after some time, it's hard to guess what was real and what was dream. Self created? Very true.
Because when all the doors are shut, that's all it is left: my spinning dreams in a broken glass bubble. You think I don't know that? I do very well. But that's just another choice I make.
Now, how fair do you think it is that your freedom is my thoughts prison? And I know what you will say that it's my choice and the world is not a fair place...