I live in hope. I hope in vain.
Abandoning all hope, I begin again.
I step away, then step up again.
I step in tandem, stepping in your train.
Then to reach and ask is but a game.
What is real is what must remain.
And so it seeks only the sane.
Only those that stay in their domain.
No room for those who wrest their chain.
No room for those who cannot contain.
And yet we dig and find our burrow.
Sheltered snooze begrudging shining morrow.
A rhyme for a rhyme when reason is gone.
This, the time when treason is born.
And so it begins, from lust to dust.
So it ends, with the end of trust.