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Writer's pictureAbbinaya Parakaran

Dark Hope



Hope was a gentle ache of promise,

of what comes and what goes.


Hope was a carnival, lit up by a thousand stars,

bursting with luminescent colors and magical illusions.


Hope was like a pillow, a place of comfort and serenity.


Hope was everything.


But right now,


Hope feels like an illusion, one that’ll always be far from reach.


Hope feels like a never-ending storm,

with the feeling of uncertainty hanging over our heads.


Hope has turned itself into a peculiar shade of gray,

filled with dark shadows and colorless rainbows.


Hope has diluted everything into an eerie film of black,

coating up our desires in a tint of shadow and dust.


But everything seems darker than it was before.


Hope has left without a sound.


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