hope used to taste like battery acid, burning sores into my mouth to remain for days as a constant reminder of the time I dared to believe that my life could be anything other than sorrow.
now, hope is an old friend, one that fuels my fire and allows me to push the boundaries of what is anticipated.
hope is the difference between constant anguish and freedom from the chaos of our own minds.
hope is what allows us to breathe, even while our heads are underwater.
hope is what turns crimson stained sheets to soft, silky linen.
hope is what allows us to move past our masochistic ways and seek a recovered life.
hope is the distinguisher between a defeated and a combatant.
give hope a passing glance, for she could be your savior, your messiah, your God.
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deep thoughts
Poetrya collection of free verse poems filled with hope, joy, sadness and longing...
