There is hope left in me still,
Scratch the surface and you'll find it there.
Like an open sore, or a winter chill,
Dragging my soul through wear and tear.
There is hope left in me still,
I think it shows in my eyes.
Come what may, come what will,
Come hell, high water and the last surprise
Yes there's hope left in me still,
So I will march on one more day.
Let the bombs fly and the bullets kill,
But my hope will live, my hope will stay.
Very nice perscription. Terribly sad in such a beautiful way. For some reason pandora's box popped in my head, must have been that small shread of hope.
__________________
"Money doesn't talk, it swears." -Bob Dylan
"Expect nothing. Live frugally on surprise." -Alice Walker
"I don't know if I can live on my income or not - the government won't let me try it." -Bob Thaves
Quote:
Originally Posted by Wordsmyth
See I'm not worried at all. Bri would save the alcohol and her wolfman in the process.
Well Ava, I've definitely been a fan of your works. This is not exception. I will tell you it's not a favorite, that's for sure. I think you went a little cliche on this one, but it still doesn't take away from your poem construction and flow. I thought the flow faltered a bit on your last line in your second stanza, you got a little long there, maybe drop a few syllables somewhere within and it'd prob be corrected.
Like I said, I still like it. Think it could use some work, yes. Your last stanza was by far your strongest, it touched on hot issues of the time and tapped into how you felt.. Pretty good. I think if you look this over a bit though, you'll rough it into something better. Thanks for sharing.
__________________
I'm abrasive, direct, and generally as helpful as I know how to be. If I cause you some offense, please let me know, and then do your best to get over it. Thanks.
Linear Mode
