What is hope but an illusion of our world?
The mere idea of hanging on,
to return whats gone.
But we know its useless, its futile
We still try to trick ourselves with some kind of guile.
Our hope is there for the good and bad,
The happy and sad,
The joyous and mad.
But we must ask ourselves,
What is hope?
Its the sound of crickets in the dark,
so we know we're not alone.
Its the echoes of a mountain answering our call.
But is anything really there at all?
Just remember when tragedy comes your way,
You can try to keep it away and hide,
You can tell yourself you already cried,
But hope will always be yours to decide.
Hope you guys liked it.