The short stories of nEoPOL

Poetry: “Cold Hope” By nEoPOL



The rain poured and yet I ran,

falling through the world,

it’s hollow substance,

no container for my woes.


Once there was purpose,

now there was only bleakness,

a sense of order lost,

direction changed.


The path still sodden,

the road still wet,

the end in sight,

but only sorrow to get.


The chance of a future,

a life recindled perhaps,

hope destined to take me,

it’s cold embrace teasing me,

taunting me.


As time would pass,

the road would dry,

the footing solidify,

the answers so crass,

would inform me well,

that hope would be undoubendly, become my cell.


Copyright © nEoPOL 2008 All rights reserved


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