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Stories of despair
  Stories of hope
Both bring a tear
  Both set us off
Perhaps we hope in despair
  Or our despair is lined in hope
Or even greater
  Our despair holds deep within it
    The hope we so very much need
I hope for the next great story
  It may not be mine
    It will be yours
But my hope is in moments of great
  Great Joy
    Great sadness
      Even greater hope.
For now, we all have hope
  Knowing or not.
For my story is yours
  And yours is mine.
So let's share through the good and the bad times
Let's hope together
Lets despair together
But please never die together
Because tomorrow is a better day
  Filled with moments
    For better or worse
      But let us hope
        Always and forever more.

Today

Im dying.

Maybe at the point when I'm found out, they'll find the compassion to bury my sad and scarred body.

Maybe they'll let me wash away to never be remembered.

Maybe they'll let me live on even though death's sting still surges deep within me.

Id rather find the way out.

Or, in fact, I'd rather hide.

Because a world without truth is a happy place.

So if my ignorance is bliss, my lack of truthfulness is my happy place.

Id say I never told a lie but id be telling you the truth and lying to my heart.

Id rather say nothing at all.

Fall asleep.

Accept my fate and know I was never meant to be.

Never meant for this.

Never.

Idealism is for the Entitled

A lot of people say a lot of things.

I'm no different, and hopefully no worse.

But probably no better.

There's preachers on the streets, there's preachers on their pulpits.

But when I speak, it may mean nothing, and they everything?

Social statuses of the social elite on their social media templates bring more social stances than society has the time for.

So we'll continue to speak these words, useless or otherwise.  We'll continue to pen these thoughts, and we'll update our statuses, social or not.

But we'll never find our way.

Because we're all lost in thought and word, not listening to each other, not allowing for any room for others.

Love is wasted, and more so with words.

This sharp tongue might never be heard, but it may be dulled.

So give me your tired, your hungry, you poor.

Give me your wired, your lonely, your all.

But I'd rather hear nothing at all.

Now, and then

Every now, and then
     I sit and think, and write
I cant sit and think, and write
     For long
But I try.

And I fail.

Theres blood somewhere there.
There are tears, I swear.

But that emotion is blinded by the world.
Muted by money.
Measured by a hopeless system.
Raped by judgement.
Littered with remnants of something great, but something not yet satisfying.

Then comes hope.
Then comes love.
But not before,
And not after,
despair.

So let me clear the air.
I'm neither right, I'm definitely not wrong.
But I'm walking without sight and without mind.

To a place I'll never find, and one I'll never mind.

So listen to these words, or not.
But know I look to you, because I've lost all I got.