Literal Scraps

Eventually this is going to be a seperate, cohesive poem. Hopefully.
No dreamer lacking luck and skill
Can hope to find the tower's door
For it is hidden out of sight
Not upon the wall of floor

Wherever one may search for it
The entreance hides its secret well
Though some have searched for years, just one
Has found it in the depths of hell

His nightmares nearly drove him mad
But from them, he could find the way
So up the crooked stairs he climbed
To watch until the break of day

Because he wasn't locked alone
Inside his mind, he kept it whole
When other people fell apart
Their scraps of dream he neatly stole

A ragtag mind, perhaps, but then
Without them, he had nothing left
And taking all his rags away
Would leave the man of soul bereft

With years of watching others' dreams
The man began to lose his own
At first it seemed the kindest thing
Without them, though, he was alone

I ask you, then, would you remove
The dreams you've left behind from him?
They may be yours, but is it fair
To end his life on such a whim?