Hi everybody, would you look at me?
I am the poet writing about his story.
It appears that mine, like many stories, has different emotions every chapter.
And I know if I just had a bit of hope, just a tad of positivity – I would live in happiness and approach the good times with the sound of my laughter.
The clouds on a stormy day or tears when confusion strikes, leaving me with nothing more to say.
My goodness, Hope, what a wonderful feeling you are. I miss you although you’re never far. I just can’t find you, in my days of blue.
Please come back and forever stay, because you’ve known and you’ve seen who I become when you’re away.
Imperfect, a word to describe myself. Imperfect is my exhausting mental health. Imperfect is the trauma and thoughts I tried to raise where I could never reach like a cookie jar on the highest shelf.
Hope, I wish for you with every desire of my soul for the duration of when I’m awake. Hope, you know it is me that begs for you to save me as my heart aches. Without you, I still fight day and night. And without you, I’m still struggling to heal and I ask myself, “What does it take?”
I’ve lived dreams in reality and slumber. Hope, I’m begging you to help me become who I was, and give me strength to become the person I envisioned that gave me the ambition to wonder.
Hope, souls are in need of your presence in their shallow hearts. And now that you’ve finally arrived, the time for peace and wellness starts.
The poet will always and forever write his story with you, Hope, by his side.
Because now that you are in my presence, you have brought me the grandest present – the happiness of the feeling of being alive.