Skip to main content

When hope falls for despair


                                                                               


When hope falls for despair 

TW : This piece contains mentions of su*cide, death, blood and self harm if you aren’t comfortable reading about these topics please don’t read further. If you or anyone you know is feeling su*cidal or is having thoughts about it, help is at hand, please do reach out either to someone you trust or call 9820466726. To everyone who chooses to read further i hope you are okay <3



This is a story about a person called despair who has only known ghosts and shadows. They have always loved and lost. Thus, finding it hard to fall in love. One day that changes when they meet hope, and slowly falls in love with them: hope. Hope to be better, Hope to love and Hope to feel. (adapted from the book : I fell in love with hope by  lancaii. Art by makshin) ps: doesn’t contain spoilers.  


Blood is accusative

It's speaks and stains 

There's no boundaries 

Death is a state of being

Humanise or demonise 

It still has a soul

Disease has a reason 

Time steals without any accusations

That's all life was supposed to be made of 

Till I met hope.. 


Hope says I am like the sun 

Yellow eyes that match my hair 

That I have dyed multiple times 

To feel alive, I have tried to be better 

About coping 

So the dye works for a while 


Ever since we met I have been ‘despair’

I love and loose

Makes me think I am beyond repair 

There are bandages on my skin 

It pains under my clothes 

Hope wears it on their sleeves 

Where I see regret, they see strength


I always loose 

So neither do I try to steal back nor put up a fight 

Yet they see me as their sun 

Thus, I cant see my own light 

So if they close their eyes and leaned in 

Would they burn or glow

As they touch me, we eclipse 

Softly becoming habitual 


Hope and despair 

A deadly combination 

Mostly like a broken gun 

It doesn’t fire so we don’t run 

We sit as every broken thing has a soul 

Breaking the watch on the wall

And pretend time is at a standstill 

As even I once should have been a ghost 


If we choose to love something we can’t loose 

Would we ever love at all? 

So is it okay for me to lose myself ? Who I was?

To begin again? 

I don't like my scars 

But they are essential broken parts 

Hidden for mirrors and lovers 

Hope turns out to be my lover

Don’t understand whether it is fearful or eternal 

So we hold each other till the shadows disappear 





Meet the Author

Just an average teenager running on coffee and fiction and sometimes I write about fiction and maybe sometimes I lose it due to my inability to handle criticism, I blame taylor swift for that. 

Faye


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Street Art - The Voice of Mumbai's Urbanity

“Art imitates life.”  Art is a mirror showing the beautiful and grotesque face of our world. Through time, all forms of art have been windows into social structures, lifestyles, and beliefs of civilizations. Transformative art has evolved over centuries as the voice of people of their times, inspiring change from a shift in social norms to war revolutions.  ["Humanity" at Sassoon Docks. Photo Credit: Special Arrangement, The Hindu] A tedious train ride in the mornings, the stationary traffic in the evenings, in the gray monotonous life of Mumbai, some days my eyes find the gorgeous colors on mossy walls and railway bridges, across old complexes and abandoned warehouses. The Street Art of Mumbai - present everywhere, unnoticed yet leaving its mark.   From the cultural abundance of the city we inhabit to the push for human rights and protest against climate change, from promoting harmony to lauding the unsung heroes, street art does more than beautify the concrete forest we...

Drizzles and Downpours: An Outsider's Look Into Mumbai's Monsoons

Rivulets of water streaming down green leaves. Tiny paper boats floating around in muddy puddles. The sharp rat-tat-tat of droplets against tin roofs and the scent of sweet jasmine rising through the air.  Back home in Kerala, the monsoons had been a time of celebration. The bright and lush paddy fields, car rides filled with the cheer of raindrop races, and the pleasure in consuming all the kozhikotta and chaaya that my grandmother made.  Board games and splashing puddles colored my monsoon. Yet when I arrived in Mumbai, it all came to a pause. Dancing in the rain turned to rushing for shelter, my puddle splashing transformed into cuffing my jeans and my previously abandoned umbrella found a new purpose.  Mumbai had taken away the joy of my beloved monsoon. Or so I thought.   The monsoons in Mumbai were different. While in Kerala, the cities came to a standstill in the face of storms, the hustle and bustle of Mumbai remained unwavering. A phenomenon I’ve slowly be...

World Sight Day: A New Perspective

  Creator: Niruti Stock | Credit: Getty Images We all start our week by lamenting the so-called 'Monday Blues' and stressing about our pending work. Many of us overlook the luxuries we own and curse the life we lead; we never take the time to step into someone else's shoes and live life from their perspective. Life is as appalling as it is enchanting and as unfair as it is beautiful. From time to time, we have all questioned our fate and wondered, “Why me?" At some point in life, we all stumble on a rock, struggle to rise, and conclude that 'nothing good can ever happen in my life.’ But have we ever paused to count all the 'good things' that have already happened to us? The purpose of this blog is not to make you feel guilty but to make you realize that, in many ways, you are in a better position than someone else. At the same time, it highlights a global initiative by WHO and Lions Club International. While the previous blog focused on the 'Leading L...