And always hope

That is what hope is,

This cold, destructive force,

That crushes you anew time after time.

And even if you think, yes, why not?

Yes, it could be, yes, him too, her too,

You end up with this Me again,

This Me, alone there, without hope

Wounded and empty.

The price of sharing was paid again – the price of writing

The price of thoughts – the price of feeling connected

The price of reflection – the price of Being.

Paid with hope, paid with energy,

Paid with life.

Again and again. Again and again. And yet

Hope is sweet every time – soo sweet.

The dopamine that floods the body, the intoxication

The happiness hormones, the ecstasy of thoughts.

And yet the price for Being is not paid –

Being pays the price. There it stands again.

Freezing in the cold, eaten away by loneliness,

Destroyed by hope.

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