Dearest Hope,

Cruel! You seem to wrap your tendrils about me. Illusions weave across the blank expanse of my mind as my eyes close, oh too willingly, to the world. It is ever so easy to give into these images. Even to lead me into this trap, knowingly I will follow you.

Horrid! You anticipate me and I move ahead.

Captured, I am, yet again.

To let me go is oh too merciful, you, my dear, are nothing of the sort.

Hope, how do you equate yourself with dreams when these falsified images of grandeur could only equate nightmares? Though, nightmares' horrors are blunt and unmasked, a true sympathy. Your horrors are nothing such.

Dearest hope, to rely upon you is to stand upon the bough of a broken tree, wind grabs at my clothes beckoning me to the ground. How dreary it is to live upon the sanctuary of the ground and yet the risk of falling is too great a pain for me to endure.

So it comes to me kneeling, my face to the sky, water upon my cheeks. My voice strains as I cry out to you.

Hope! To torture me with such blessings.

Hope! Your contradictions do no more than befuddle and confound.

Hope! Until next time my dearest enemy.


Your latest victim