Poetry
Hope.
Kash Baloch·April 19, 2012·Original
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There is a tiny voice at the deepest darkest void that calls out for hope although it is one I often avoid.  Instead I poison myself with alcohol, intoxicating me until I am irrelevant, and oblivious yet I am not insidious.  I want to listen to the voice within that beseeches me to stop my sins but instead I have another drink, numbing the pain and silence, consistently on the brink.  On the verge of something exciting yet always a few steps back, it is almost as if I dare to react and risk undergoing my own personal massive attack.  I am unsure how to continue when I can feel my heart breaking in my chest, shattering into a million pieces; why couldn't it be as easy for me as it is for the rest?  My journey has led me to fleeting moments of hope where I could feel a new sun dawning on my day but then it has also victimized me, raped me, beaten me, and made me its prey.  I am only human, how much more am I supposed to take?  How much must I be forsaken by God's salacious snake?  It bites me on the daily, proof for all that I have done wrong, yet I continue to march along, smile plastered upon my face llke nothing could possibly go wrong.  I pray one day I listen to this voice that calls for hope so that I can become one with my future and no longer viewed as a joke.  Tunnel vision heart of mine just sees what lies ahead, but at this rate all that I can see is another sibling dead.

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