Desolate hope

When I sit down and write

I think of all the problems I could write about

All the woes and all the worries


But I choose not to indulge

In what ultimately traps me

For inside me lies a glimmer of hope, or perhaps ignorance

That maybe all these problems will die in neglect should I not face them


Should they face the loneliness that consumes me

They would cower and wither

Oh so I hope


But it is crystal clear that they shall haunt me yet another day

And when this happens I sit down and write

But I write about a bed of roses instead


I realize not that each rose has thorns

And thus hurt myself in my blindness

And this adds to my woes and worries

That I choose not to write about as I sit down


Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s