Paperlife.

"(Hope)iates"

Nothing is more tragically beautiful than this. For every good that occurs, a bad must smother my bliss.

All in charcoal black sizzling despair.

Yet I will hope that things will get better.

When life is flourishing and gearing towards my excellence,

I am stopped by one who's lost their life and essence... dimming my light.

Yet I hope I can get through it all.

It's something I rely on, when the sun goes down unexpectedly.

It something I hold onto, in case the night doesn't subside.

It's something I utilize when I am veiled with curtains of uncertainty.

It's the drug that gets me through so I don't have to actually pursue.

Unwillingly, I'm dwindling within its clutch and flare.

Slowing down from building my paper life into award winning novels to share. When my pages catch a flame or my mirrors crack some more, I'll pop another one.

To suppress all of my fears and regress myself, from fixing my own reflection and burned pages so torn...

I'm dependent on its promises that it seems to never keep.

I'm hypnotized by its essence that helps me get some sleep.

Outside of my hazy dreary dreams, is a life collapsing, like a sweater stitched With loose seams. with no real hope in sight. Only ill-fate and demise to slate.

I may sit and hope for this, and I may ponder and hope for that, but nothing Is going to happen unless action follows for what my wishes aim at...

Sadly, I will hide in its shrouds of false oaths and its alluring pitch black lies.

For when my world falls apart, so will my hopiate life.

One by one the pieces fall from my glass heart's shatters.

Instead of repairing it, I'll take one more because it's "all that really matters."

Laying in the broken glasses of what doesn't really matter...