Hope
Ultimately, it's a matter of seasons,
waiting for dawn.
Through the skylight,
tiny as it is,
my hope resides.
It's a glimpse of the hope I eagerly yearn to meet from my room.
I've longed to find belonging,
pondered and wondered,
if I was meant to have no solace.
The doors are shut,
and I'm enclosed in the cubicle.
Yet, as the skylight on the roof keeps shining,
so does my hope for tomorrow.
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