Dum spiro, spero.
As long as I live, I will have hope.
Another gray Monday
Statistics are piled up on my desk
Homeless - thrown out by their own families
Suicidal - twice as much so as their peers
Is this our youth?
Detesting themselves as society detests them?
The outlook is as bleak as the sky
Yet I roll up my sleeves once again
In the corner, my radio blares the weather
Sunshine is forecasted for tomorrow
She tortures herself
Builds up just to tear down
Gets close enough to reach out
Knowing her hand
Will only touch glass
She convinces herself
She'll have the courage to break it
But can only caress her cage
Tracing what lies beyond
Then she retreats with one goal
And the torture begins again
Happy New Year's,