the hopeful have friends
darling, aren't you tired of always being someone else?
i hope the world has been kind to you
but then again, what is hope?
the foolish notion that one day fate will redeem us
or the act of lying to ourselves?
rocks solid in my palm, the weight slamming into my chest
that is definitive
it is comfort
i skip rocks in the lake and make wishes
because I'm long out of pennies
and at least i know that i did make a ripple
if not in the way i wanted to
they are rough, they are smooth
they weigh my pockets down
because if not i think i'd float away
you know, i've always wanted to taste cloud
they say it's water but i prefer cotton candy
and as I hurl another rock into the lake's depths
it plops, laughing at me again
my dear, aren't you tired of reflecting everyone else?
i know i'm beautiful, but one can only stand so much of themselves
it's just you and me and the rocks
hey, no fair, you've drenched my socks
but you know, those boys with pockets of checkbook coppers
what do they have but paper that will float away at the first chance?
i may only have these road speckled smooth pebbles
because if nothing else,
the hopeful have friends
(submitted to foyle?)
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