CRUEL

Hope. It sucks, doesn’t it? To sit and think is hard but to sit and hope is worse. To hope that it will be fine, that people could stop dying, that we could be free to love, that people dont need to scream into the void of injustices that grows bigger with each hour. And yet, it is love, isn’t it? It’s that smile on your face when you see that person, it’s a toddlers laughter. It brings you up so high that you think you could fly, but it’s not some fucking gaurdian angel protecting you from life. It will let you fall. Again, and again and again and again and again. But it is the only thing that brings you up. It is Cruel, but sometimes, it’s the only thing people have left. Something they shroud themselves in. For they can hope - mum will come hope today. They can hope - the shelling wont be bad today, we will be safe today. But of course they won’t, for it is cruel. Yet, without it, we would cease to exist, for it is a part of us.