Hope

A poem for those who understand losing hope.
You will find it again.

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1. Hope

A thirst like no other, cloying with melancholy and despair,

Unrequited longing, incurable, unending, thrilling.

It sits in the stomach, in the mind, whispering gently,

Curling fingers in agitation, concentration torn to ribbons,

The blade flickers, a comforting flame, a release.

Cold to the touch and draining of consciousness, it sings,

Sings lullabies and screams and cuts and lies,

The blood pours, the blade grins, the mind collapses,

Realisation floods through the eyes, a sudden gasp,

The storm of emotions resting under the loathsome blanket of shock.

Vows, prayers, sobs, silence. The blood clots and the cheeks dry.

The scar snarls, it beams its gnarled grin of malicious triumph,

Crooked teeth fall away to leave pallid gums and eternal regret.

Pervasive dread gleans the good and light and soils it,

Turns it foul and black and acidic, pumps it through you.

The sadness intensifies, tearing up the fragmented heart,

Casting aside happiness, leaving only the thirst,

That intent to ruin, destroy, to scar and defile,

And hope is lost.

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