What if tomorrow’s light ceased to show?
A path veiled in shadows, where sun’s glow.
What if I surrender to the whispers of sorrowful woe?
Engulfed by darkness with a cup of sorrow to stow.
What if!
What if I succumb to the tightening rope,
A haunting murmur, a desperate scope.
Release the grip on hope’s fragile slope,
Through tear-stained nights, in despair I grope.
The burden of despair, a weighted cloak,
Yet in the obscurity, lies a flicker of smoke.
And within the soul’s profound slope,
Hope emerges with a resilient trope.
And as the heart weeps, strained by the strain,
Realization dawns, a comforting refrain.
In the depths where emotions grope,
Rope is not Hope, a vital elope.
©® Brown Sketchys
