Heading West

I remember coming west

just a kid

in the backseat

with a soaring imagination.

I had Hollywood dreams

and thought you walked the streets

should to shoulder with movie stars.

The roads weren’t paved with starlets,

just people lost on broken dreams.

The spotlight doesn’t shine as bright

when you’re not perfect.

People who once got high on success

are overdosing now on their drug of choice.

These Hollywood dreams

become silver screen nightmares.

I’ve wandered the hills that hug the Hollywood sign,

trying to catch my own hope in jam jars.

I want to believe like

the first time

I pressed my hands into concrete handprints,

just off the walk of fame.