Hope Stings Eternal

The ironic qualities of hope

Depression is often described as a gloom,
Desperation�"it’s hopelessness: bleak.
But I’d be delighted if Hope left the room.
That is just the release that I seek!

Hope truly is the cruelest thing.
It never lets us rest!
It whips us on, this tyrant king;
Its flame burns in our chest.

The only cure for hope is death,
Since when there’s life, there’s hope,
And though we strive with ev’ry breath,
The answer’s always “nope,”

Or “Don’t give up! To quit’s to lose!”
“With will, there is a way!”
And always on our batter’d bruise
It beats, each god-damn’d day.

Although all sane and reason’d thoughts
Proclaim, “The battle’s lost!”
That Idiot Hope our logic rots,
And never counts the cost.

Just as a helpless, baited fish
Cannot spit out the hook,
We’re trapped by Hope, who writes each wish
Forever in our book

And though our restless, yearning tries
Will never bear us fruit,
Relentless Hope forever cries,
“Once more! Your suff’ring’s cute.”

Hope teases, coaxes, wheedles, calls;
It makes you believe you’ll succeed,
Inspiring the most lovely feelings of all,
But its promise is empty indeed.

Well, I’m through with the teasing, the lies and heartbreak!
In life, all’s disappointment that lingers,
So I’m swallowing poison. My leave I’ll now take.
It’s quick and won’t hurt…cross your fingers!

The Gray Manichean
September 4, 2012