And Hope

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Unrequited

 is the cold steel

against my temple

a finger twitches

on an itchy trigger

but the chamber’s empty

except for fear

and hope

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A Golden Mirage?

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Atop this body

There is my head

My throne of self

Upon which lies

The crown of soul

Attached to this

A carrot stick

It jumps and sways

Rocking my vision

The question remains

If this lure

Of my making

Is false hope

Yet drives me onward

Growing

Learning

Does it even matter?