Starting as a seed
in the ground,
watered properly,
Sun's rays encouraging it to grow.
It does.
Days,
weeks,
and months pass,
now a beautiful oak,
branches out- stretched
toward the Sun,
a feeling of serenity passes over.
From Spring, slowly growing,
to Summer, fully grown,
then Fall, temperature drops and leaves abandon the tree,
finally Winter, the tree dies.
With branches still out-stretched,
clinging toward
Hope,
a necessity to survive.
A cold wind blows,
and b l o w s,
a n d b l o w s,
knocking the now old oak over.
Watch as it falls,
the light fading around me,
stupidity,
shame,
loneliness,
and fear,
pulling me down a dark hole;
fear's the strongest.
Hope just watches.
It grows smaller,
and smaller,
while the hole gets deeper,
but with a thud,
the seemingly never ending
hole ends.
Just my size.
Hope nothing more
than a teasing star now,
as it twinkles in,
and out,
until
it fin-
-ally
dis-
-ape-
-ars.
Points: 282
Reviews: 223
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