Hope.

It’s the tiniest grain of salt deep in the pits of my cave.  That bit of hope tucked inside the walls.  Dictating how I behave. 

There was a wall that came down last night. Berlin would have sang. You came over,  you told so many truths, that bit of hope thought maybe you could change

You might not be the monster you were. You might just be a ghost wandering unseen in the light. Drifting unheard but screaming with all of your might. 

The tiniest piece of hope is peaking outside of the caves. I’ve wasted so much time hoping and repairing, knowing you can’t be saved. 

You ended up surprising me. You rarely do. I’m trying not to be too hopeful for you.

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