When all hope is lost,

What do we rely on?

Do we wait for the day,

When we finally die?

Those with hope don’t like death,

Because they love the lie,

Of happily ever after,

Build behind their eyes,

Why does everyone love life,

But hate death,

When death is the painful truth,

When life is a beautiful lie?

I'm so weak,

I need to hold on,

I can’t breath,

When I’m underground.

Can anyone hear me?

I’m so far under,

Out of control,

Unsavable.

I need a life line,

But without hope,

Who would save me?

I can’t survive.

Where there is light,

There are burns,

Where there is puddles,

There is rain.

“Make lemonade!” they say,

But the lemons are far too sour,

They were squeezed,

Right into my bleeding wounds.

“It doesn't sting!” they say,

So I bite my tongue,

Hiding my screams,

So they don't see,

That I am weak.

Hope gives me sugar,

Making things oh so sweet,

Hope heals the cuts,

So I don’t have to be strong.

Hope makes the flowers grow,

Despite the rain,

Hope lights up a room,

Despite the pain.

Hope shows us lows,

To make the highs,

Oh so much higher.

A life without the highs,

And the lows too,

Would not be life at all,

Just a flatliner.