The Thing About Hope

Hope isn't a sweet blue bird

of happiness

perched lightly

in your soul 

or waiting

on a high wire

that somehow 

never gets electrocuted

or blown away. 

Hope is a carnivore,

a bird of prey,

watching the fields

below,

waiting to devour

you. 

Hope isn't selfless

or eager to help.

Hope demands

your first born

and your last breath. 

It crumbles your resolve

and makes you stay

when you swore you wouldn't. 

Hope is a bitter thief

who steals your smarts

and makes you dumb,

makes you believe

in the impossible

because just maybe

this time it will be different.

And it never is. 

It never changes.

The only thing different

is that Hope

made a fool 

out of you.

Again. 

And unless you're ready

to shoot that bird

out of the sky,

a fool is all

you're ever going to be.