Maybes have driven me for all the time
I remember, a labyrinth of glass walls
and dead ends. Not able to tell whether looking through
to a happy tomorrow or a hopeful yesterday. The
voices in my mind, or of my mind?, keep me kept me
hoping and happy… almost masochistic. But maybes
cannot be held onto as will bes, the unsure cannot
define the definite. So I let go of the expectation of a
maybe while always holding hope in my heart. I am divided
at my soul; half full, half empty… more than the nothing it is.
The full hope will remind me of the yesterdays when I wanted
fuller tomorrows. The empty expectation creates a hole
that tries to fill itself with the Perfect Monster. But I hold on,
I do not let myself fall in any manner. I do not fall to the
depths from which I have climbed, I do not fall for
my heart and its hope. I rise to today.