Even prevalent in the darkest confines of me,
I find what I would like to call Present Hope;
Which alluding from the name,
You can conclude it is the hope at the present.
Does not mean it is displayed
Nor intrusive; It rests.
Present Hope is almost a coward happening,
Hardly partnered with courage,
But sometimes hops out the confines
To assert himself into a sort of dominance.
Occasionally in my writing present hope is viewed,
But more often than not it is my writing lacking
Present Hope that makes it intriguing.
Present Hope sometimes winks at reality
In a warning type manner,
But not dangerous, more so malicious
To the point where I am not scared,
More so aware of its impending doom.
The doom only present in the presents of Maleficent,
Or a woman who breathes like a dragon.
To extract that doom would get rid of
Present hope in any man wallowing in the wake
Of a woman who captures the soul of a dragon.
Now, present hope is hiding in the dark confines
That I sometimes have to bind myself too.
However ironic that I bind myself to those places,
Whenever I retrieve no hope from current spaces,
I reside to the darkness to find my hope.
Does this mean I look at the positive within the negative?
Does this mean I get a boost in ego from watching the broken?
Does this mean the Present Hope is hidden until stolen?
Does this mean I should never have Present Hope,
Until I absolutely need it?
Does this mean that my writings are a cry for help?...
For the capability of present hope is sometimes, prudent.
