By Mary Burns
Hope will not leave me alone.
It stalks me and will not leave me in peace.
It pokes at me again and again
and will not let me stay content
in my defeat.
It feeds on my foolish dreams,
it haunts my mind.
It will not allow me to just give up
and accept the status quo.
Begone wretched hope!
A tormentor, a torturer.
Hope sees with eyes none else can see.
Wishing he would go blind,
I plod on and on
because of wretched hope!
I must learn to live with my affliction.
For hope, however wretched,
is better than a living death without it.
So although I complain and wish you gone,
do not desert me, precious hope!
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