I think, the day you give up
on yourself, is the day everyone else gives up on you
too.
Between broken bones, scattered hearts, corrupted lungs
and thoughtless minds,
hope is just a thought,
a state of mind,
an emotion.
It isn't a thing anymore.
It is an idea that we all,
say we have.
We all say we will learn,
we all say that we will change and someday,
I think we learn that hope is more of a felling,
that we lust.
Hope is a desire,
hope is a dream.
YOU ARE READING
The World In My Words
PoetryThese are my stories, they are my words and my thoughts and my feelings. It takes time to turn tragedy into art. This is my corrupted world in words. This is a message from the breathless. Can you read between the lines?
