Freedom In Lost Hope
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