wafted violently along
like tiny fragments
carried in the wind
every passing soul brings with them

a strand of hope
inconceivably visible
to the naked eye
worthless and agonizing

what could a speckle of conviction possibly do?
a pathetic thread of faith
another empty promise
waiting to be broken again

so you weave it incessantly
intertwined with the lies
that they will
continue to spew

until it forms a sheath
big enough
thick enough
to cover the stab wounds

of dereliction
and the treacherous vows made
with malevolent words hurled
like waves crashing against the shore

crash
silence the demons
hold their tongues
drag them over the silver metal sheets
and pierce them through their chests

but for how long before
the melancholy has infiltrated every fibre of hope
before we have to recapitulate it all again
be quiet

soon it becomes
an endless cycle
of pleading for mercy
and impetuous desperation

because maybe one day
the threads will be strong enough
to hold the wounds together
so the scars can form
and the pain evanesce

and this will destroy me