“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.”
Tuesday, November 17, 2020
A still life
I spent my life wondering when I'd be lucky enough to die. I'd learned enough to know, the world wasn't meant for me. More than once I tried suicide. I failed, just like the loser I was. My pain couldn't pay the cost to let me be redeemed. Instead, I thought perhaps I should forever just sleep. In sleep I might finally live a dream. But my dreams had all become a nightmare. Sleep was no respite, but my curse's lair. Then I met the one with red hair and realized, she was my home. Maybe I was alone for so long that I couldn't see the good things for dark trappings of my soul. My life changed in a very short time, burning with a fire, not from lust, but hope.
“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.”
“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.”
