The hopeful
Aren't always
The ones
Who fall first
The hopeful
Aren't always
The ones
Who are cursed
For the hopeful,
They are made
of two things.
Not faith
Not hate
Not booze
Or smoke rings
Not flesh
Not blood
Not organs
Or bones
Not fairy dust
Not water,
Not sticks
Or stones
They're made of
the two
major consistencies
That live
Inside them
Like a
graceful disease
There's no
Bad or Good
There's no
Laughter or Tears
They're simply
made up of
Hope
and Fear.
Hope
for the wishes
the dreams in
their veins
Fear
for the nightmares
the smiles
she feigns
Hope
for the days spent waiting
Fear
for the nights spent crying
Fear
for the teeth they're grating
Hope
for every every wish to be flying
When they dissolve
into the
long-forgotten
Mist
No one would have
seen the words
Written across
Their wrist
The hopeful.
You can't see them
But they're
everywhere
The hopeful.
They're as beautiful,
As harsh
as the sun's glare
Take one
Step backward
And look more closely
At them
Whose pupils
Are unfocused,
And strangely
Condemned
Their eyes look
Less and less
Adjusted
As they get nearer
You might
Have seen this person:
Every day,
in the mirror.
You might
Have seen
Their familiar
Faces
In the glass
On the wall
You peer in
On a daily basis
You can't ever
Escape the hopeful
No matter
what you do
Because,
The same thing
inside them
Also lives inside of you.
