Tell me why we cry about things that we thought we knew best?

Is it to remind us of the beauty of hope?

I can always rise, smile and laugh even when inside I’m scared like a child.

And always, I’ve been chasing to be the person no one else wanted to be. 

It’s always been this way. 


Hope is a strange friend to me.

I’ve become so different that looking back always makes me wonder if it was real? 

Hope is dangerous and hope is light. 

My life can be so dark, I hope to make it bright. 

This is just how it is. 


I have to force myself to believe that things that once were, are real, 

This is the only way for me to acknowledge my humanity and humanity in the world.

I’m safe and lonely in these walls,

I’m a child when the sky is blue, the sunlight on my skin. 

I will always be this way. 


Hope is summer in the air…coming and going; we all search for it, 

No one wants a life of misery, we cannot resist the joy that comes when we hope.  

Hope is that which we sometimes forget is our friend, 

It’s there when we give up and when we push it away to wallow in sadness, 

In a cruel world, we are cruel to the one thing that gives us life. 


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