I hate when I get the feeling of hope, empty hope.
When you know it will just lead to another cliff.
It’s a feeling that clouds your judgment,
that you chase after, and once it clears
it’s too late and you’ve already fallen
But it’s the path to that cliff, that’s just so enticing
Full of excitement, curiosity and joy,
feelings once thought lost.
You can feel it and it’s true
But you can’t quite get a grasp on it
It teases and pulls you closer.
Then ****; it’s gone.
It’s clear again
And you’re alone,
with only a memory;
Of what was and could have been
but never will be again.