Hope

Hope is a glass bullet.

Its beauty

Perfection, and simplicity

Astounds the senses.

It is the last string

To hold onto

Life in a simple cord.

One could say

Harmless.

Truthfully,

It is the thing that

Can hurt us the most.

A lead bullet

Goes through us,

We heal.

Pellets hit us,

Bounce off our skin.

But hope,

It embeds in

The shallow skin of

Depression.

Cuts our resolve up

All it has to do

Is let go

Of our hand

And we take the fall.

After hope

The darkness

Of despair seems

Lonelier.

You feel

Like you've lost

Everything

When hope isn't there.

Empty now,

Knowing the pleasure of

Being half full,

Seems worse.

Darkness for

Our lives seems normal,

But knowing that

Piercing light

That is hope,

And not having

It anymore,

Is a life threatening

Injury.