I feel like a balloon floating in the air.
Too high for anyone to reach, Too low to
be able to reach the sun. Eventually I get caught up in a
power line, just like I get caught up in the false hope that everyone likes to feed me.
I’m there still floating, trying my hardest to get away,
but every move I make I get more tangled.
Eventually I start to run out of air. I stop struggling and stagnantly sit in the air.
Then, slowly, I start to fall. Down. down. down.
Only I never hit the ground,
I stay dangling facing the ground but never hitting it.
They say that Hope floats… but does it dangle?
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A Good metaphoric way of Hope in ones life that keeps one live, may be in this case , in midair preventing further fall. Am I right ? If its so title could read some thing like: “Hope that holds”. Hope I am not overdoing.
Well done “HopelessStephmantic”