Hope is a cruel and fickle thing, and though it is shown as salvation I sometimes wonder how good it really is. A never ending temptation of broken and unfulfilled promises. How many people have fallen victim to something as simple as hope, become victims of the of a just out of reach fever dream. One that will soon turn into a nightmare, a haunting and despairing thing. And soon the unrelenting pain become too much, too heavy a weight to bear, something too impossible to even wish for. Some will continue to fall under its spell but others will see through the illusion. They will weigh their life in their hands and find it wanting. Wanting in so many indescribable ways that most are just too hopeful to see. But once this realisation has been made, they will never be able to turn back, stuck on a one way journey that is destined to crash. And crash it will, but in some ways this is better. No more expectations, merely a fact not of life but death. Finding a comfort within it that hope could never give them.
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Short Poems
PoetryI wouldn't really call them poems, they are just an expression of how I feel. They don't have a structure or lines, it's just whatever comes to me
