Life promises no one a break,
No sliver of solace to console our souls.
A sigh of relief is not guaranteed
After a long, drawn out, ceaseless, fatigue.
No hand to offer much-needed reprieve
In the midst of our suffering, life surely aggrieves.
The light at the end of a tunnel
Only shines to exaggerate the darkness,
And the silver lining around the cloud
Only exists to foretell the tempest.
“Things will get better,” rolls off of the tongue
With the need to alleviate what hasn’t been won.
Optimism is bred out of privilege and care,
While skepticism grows with an ability to see clear.
So take hope that’s been trampled on, coupled with fear,
And find within oneself, the ability to persevere.
Though nothing is promised, no destiny exists,
Some have found a way to live and persist.