Blasted possibilities

Hope is a funny thing.
Existing even when we will it not to.
In spite of reason
Or obvious evidence pointing to the contrary,
It refuses to die.
it fools you into thinking
you are done with it
you cant feel or see it anymore.

Convinced that you’ve beaten it
buried it deep into the ground
even planted grass
to cover it’s optimistic head
you say to yourself
‘hope has breathed its final breath,
hope which dare not die …..is dead.’
Finally you can rest
After all, one need not worry about the dead!

You forget that hope is a funny thing.
Till you are struck
By a kicked-in-the-gut feeling
It catches you unaware...
a hard fast blow
that leaves you reeling in shock.
You realize that while it hid, it grew
It spread its roots in your very core.
It thrived in you and you never even knew.
           Blasted possibilities!

You’d tried to avoid this exact feeling,
of losing something that you know
never quite really was yours.
But hope is a funny funny thing,
and so are blasted possibilities!

To whom it may concern.....

the only thing to come out of this long absence is an intense disgust for all things cute( stories, books, beliefs, even tissue) and a creepy desire for anything that is shocking. There is a stranger in my mind,throwing stuff around , shaking it up a little bit which might explain why i cant quite write coherently. my girlfriends think i'm in a weird place and it's just a phase. my sister keeps wondering why i'm so dysfunctional and where the disconnect with fellow humans comes from. all i do look, listen and return to operating at bare minimum. Having given you an update ,i'm returning to my cave to perhaps retrieve my scripted and much more easily read personality .Crazier stuff has happened to people so there's no need to worry. I will return........maybe.