A poem about being a dreamer (01/23/23)

Dream, Dream, Dream

It's so cold, and I couldn't think of anything,
my soul is composed with all this strange sensations
all of them are cold, I can't help but to think,
how my life would be when I grow old

It excites me so dearly,
merely just thinking about it
I dream all day and night,
striving for that future so bright

I struggle to remain in the present time,
I hope one of these days I'd finally realize
that it is a gift and just as valuable as the future,
and not full of weariness and regret as the past

Being given the opportunity to use a freestyle poem writing method did not help this essay. The subjects per stanza appears to disconnect from the previous lines. Making it confusing to read. The stanzas need to be better developed and interconnected to achieve a more cohesive poem presentation.

The best way to improve the presentation would be to figure out what the actual topic is. If it is about dreams, then what does the cold have to do with it? Growing old relates to what? What excites you? What about your future is a specific part of the dream? Why do you struggle? There are just so many loopholes in this poem that anybody who reads it would more than likely think that this was written by an AI rather than a student.