Hope?

I've seen men with hope lost from their eyes.

Brittle men,

fragmented, broken men

Whose cries are unheard or spoken of.

Their lives don't run on hope

For it has long died

They are fueled by what they see before them

The truth of the world

And not the lies of hope

To them, it's nothing more than a man of straw

That scares away the crows.

Ineffective,

For their birds don't fear the hay

They don't run from it

Or cower away from it

They poke it with their beeks and eat the seeds beneath it

No hope when you sleep to the sound of pecking birds

Their lives,

Built on harsh realities

Fight to survive

A truth that cuts deeper than any lie,

one might tell oneself

Their eyes,

Hopeless, devoid of dreams

Yet gleaming with inner clarity

Embers sparked by truth,

Not hope.

The flames provide no warmth,

But rather light.

I’ve seen the hope drained from their eyes

The warmth lost from their smile

Sorrow tucked in their skin

Hollow men.

A hardened shell swallowed whole then spit out

But still moves on to tomorrow

With a glint in their eyes