I try so fucking hard 

to hold onto hope. 

When everything is 

slipping out of my grasp, 

And it feels like my world is 

drowning in ink. 


I try too fucking hard 

to hold onto hope. 

Watching it slip through

my fingers like sand. 


I don't want to 


It takes too much energy. 

I'm tired. 


There's little changes 

But they slip from 

my grasp

like a cloud 

or drops of water. 


They never stay. 

How do you make them stay? 

Do you have to be liquid too? 


This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


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