Hope is a dangerous thing. Do not give me hope, don’t tell me of a promise land. I can’t let God in, I can’t let His love flow. It’s perhaps easier to believe in a God that shakes the earth and spins us around. I can’t allow the stars to shine, and lead me astray once again. The night sky is barren and beautiful that way. These lights distract me and show me dreams of a lie. A destination I cannot find.
How can dreams be true, misery waits at the door waiting for us to let them in. A chance, forgiveness and one more try? I go down the rabbit hole, I dig myself deep and remain burried. No one can hear my screams of yearning. I’m trapped and I have to break my bones, mould my body to crawl out of this barren land. I bleed to give it fertility and am left spoilt for the memories. My body remembers and my heart still believes I shall find diamonds where I was once burried with rot.
Don’t give me hope, my heart. This life is indeed a wicked game. A cruel punishment. It lures you to worship God, leaves you parched for affection and chase honey dew drops of a one true love that does not exist.
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