Hope is as persistent as cynicism — even more sow.
It Turns Out That Hope Is
Hope turned out
To be a stale mate
Or sow he helled
Hope could not breach
His impenetrable armor of cynicism
Fretting over awe inconceivable
Utterly mustered
Why me!
And as fate would halve it
A teacher peered
A whys guy
Who tolled him like it is
Hope is not like a sword
Too die or live buy
Hope is not like rockets red glare
Hope is more like air
Or water
Even greatly mist
Less of a stronghold
More of a light touch
Less heat
More warmth
Less of a tempest
More of a breeze
Less like armor
More like amor
And just then
He felt a breath
A whisper on his neck
And humidity rising
Awe of a sudden
His guarded whirled
Seemed a different kind
Of impregnable
And brood
