Hopelessness Poems Novels & Stories

"A glimmer of hope, can cause one to choke. The caress of a single tear, cracking glass in a mirror. Steady heartbeat, It's not to keep. Running so fast, away from the past. Silent in the night, sulking away from light. Chills from the cold, arms tight to hold. Sudden despair, this is fair. Mistakes made, choices to trade. Dreamless sleep, in way too deep. Faith falters, drowning waters. Screaming out, No one about. It is finally time, the soul doesn't shine. No more waiting, She is fading."

Her heart nearly stopped. “You’re successful now,” she said. “You have everything. Why would you want the same girl you left behind?” “Because I never stopped loving her.” The room felt suddenly smaller. Dangerous. Hope was a dangerous emotion for Evelyn. “I don’t believe you,” she said. “You don’t have to,” Lincoln replied. “But I’m not giving up this time.” Her chest tightened again. Every man she had dated after Lincoln had been an attempt to replace something that could never truly be replaced.

However, amidst this overwhelming despair, a tiny spark of hope ignites within me, fueling my determination to persevere. Despite my initial belief that someone will come to my rescue and pull me out of this pit of hopelessness, the passage of time has only served to deepen my sense of isolation. The walls that once served as mere boundaries now taunt me, reflecting my desperate pleas for help and amplifying my despair. Any glimmer of hope that once sustained me, like a flickering candle in the darkness, has now vanished into nothingness.

It whispered of hope, of a strength waiting to be rekindled, and I clung to it with every ounce of my depleted energy. The suffocating sense of hopelessness. It weighed upon me like a heavy cloak, pressing me down into the depths of despair. Each breath I took felt labored, as if the weight of my own emotions threatened to crush me completely. There was a sense of futility, a pervasive feeling that no matter how hard I fought, I would never be able to rise above the overwhelming tide of despair that engulfed me, leaving me utterly broken.

No acknowledgment of my humanity. He asks for the whiskey. The pain that hits me isn't sharp like a slap. It’s dull and heavy. It’s the feeling of drowning when you thought you’d found a raft. To Spadino, I am a toy to be broken. To Aureliano, I am a receipt to be burned. To Ciro, I am nothing at all. Hope is a dangerous thing in this house. It’s a poison worse than cyanide, because it kills you slowly. It makes you think you can survive the monsters by letting them in.

But now, everything lies in ruins, shattered and devastated. As the water continues to pour over me, I can't help but wonder if there's any hope left for me, if I'll ever find a way to break free from this endless nightmare that has become my life. The pain and despair are overwhelming, and all I can do is hold onto the fragile hope that somewhere, somehow, there's a path to healing and redemption.

Then, a satisfying thought came to mind. "Hmm, I think I have an idea." It looked like my early sun-drenched run through the woods would have to wait. DPOV Song: The Grand Optimist by City and Colour, Brain Stew by Green Day, Hollow Moon (Bad Wolf) by AWOLNATION Sleep didn't come easy these days. I never needed much before—I was trained to go long periods without it after all—but now it was practically nonexistent. Ever since the battle. The day the Kievan Rus fell. The day I lost Ivan. The day I lost everything.

And in that moment, standing there in the morning light, I feel a spark of hope—a fragile, flickering thing, but enough to keep me going. All of these, just to end myself at the end.

A continuous and seemingly endless circle. Where would I be if he hadn't called me that first night in the car after our rescue? I shudder to think that I would be lying around my house, depressed and alone. With no hope. What is worse than living without hope? Nothing. Those without hope struggle to live, to move on and recover. They often use violence against themselves. They become addicts to escape. They may even contemplate death. I cringe. I'd never been down that road in my mind before and shied away from its implications.

It simply stretched on, dark and endless, as empty as the future waiting for me. I exhaled shakily, my breath fogging up the cold air. If there was any good left in this world, let me find it. Let me grasp onto whatever hope remains. But if all that awaited me was my own destruction— Then let me die before the sun rises.