Hope.
She never leaves, doesn’t sleep, doesn’t fade.
Wash her a thousand times she’s as black as she ever was.
When she rapes you she makes you cry.
When she’s absent you wish she’d assault you again:
At least you’d have something to live on.
A mortal among mere mortals,
you walk among ordinary people,
with her by your side, watching over like a guardian much feared but needed.
Hope.
She both feeds and starves.
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