I'm a Prisoner of Hope

Hope holds my wrists,
with ribbons that feel like chains—
gentle,
yet impossible to break.

I pace the bars
made of maybes,
counting instances
of what-if, could-be, and if-only,
each probe a step forward.

I press the soft faces 
of my restless dreams
through the bars 
of tomorrow's mirrors,
fogging the glass,
yearning with my breathing—
too close to see,
too far away to feel.

Some nights
fear rattles the locks loose,
and some negative whispers
seep into my bones,
but I will not stray.

For hope
is the only captor
I trust—
the one who feeds me light,
even through keyholes,
when all else fails.

I could flee these bounds,
and call it 'Freedom',
but I’d rather remain—
smuggling miracles of hope
foreseen through distant cracks
in midnight’s seems.

I'm a Prisoner.
a Prisoner of Hope!
In what seems, can be?
In the cracks of my being!

angstanxietyhopefree verse

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