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Life & Philosophy Poetry

It’s the hope that kills

Holding hands in air in hope

It’s the hope that kills you.

Hope is that tease of an emotional tug that keeps you on edge, craving for fruition.

But no matter how much you pray and imagine, it mostly yields nothing.

Hope is hopeless.

Luck is an idea that guarantees to hover over circumstance. Who doesn’t want the calm-inducing pacifier of a million dollars in one’s bank account?

Hope hunts down luck in the search of editing your own future. Good fortune almost always, never happens. You can only hope to feel it’s possibility.

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By Wells Baum

Wells Baum is a daily blogger who writes about Life & Arts. He's also the author of Discvr.blog and four books.