#dying hope

[friday-night-vodka]

Falling stars broken lights, dying hope shattered lives.

Raining hard oncoming storm, letting go imminent fall.

Crashing impact broken heads, fading lives stories end.

Time continues moving on, forgotten people forever lost.

-Stu (friday-night-vodka)

[everynameiwantedwastaken]

hope

The scent of smoke carries through the still air of the empty chapel. The prayers it was once witness to long since faded into eternity. A lone candle trying to keep hope alive as everything around it bows to the sands of time. The ever-dying embers casting a soft, almost alive dance of shadows over the crumbling altar it was once allowed to fill with light. Statues of the divine long forgotten fading into darkness the weaker the flame becomes. Wax dripping from the candle like life draining from its very soul, the fire fading with every drop slipping away from the hungry flame. The sound carrying whispers of worship to Gods long believed dead; yet it refuses to vanish like everything around it. The other candles all burned out the moment the doors closed forever and eternity started to creep in through the cracks. Ivy reclaiming what once was nature's. Vines wrapping around broken pieces of Gods that believed they would live forever. Cold light shining over the overgrown marble a soft hand of devastation as the stars twinkle beyond the windows adorned with stories of a time long faded into oblivion. The once colorful pictures telling tales of worship and wonder no one will ever listen to again, crumbling, fading, dying just like the figures they whisper about. A gust of air slipping past the cracks, with it a faint memory of all that has been lost. The floor creaking softly at the cares of a touch it had long forgotten as it carries on to the flickering ambers of the last hope still standing. Time almost seems to hold its breath when it reaches the candle, waiting, watching, hoping. The wind holding out a waiting hand to the flame, silent permission to fade away, to not have to keep going for an audience that will never come again. Slowly the golden glow flickers before chasing the gentle touch that wants to save it away and feeding on the last of the wax that keeps it alive.

[tempusperfectum]

You know what I hate. False pockets in pants. It's like a symbol of dying hope. It is black magic.

[misunderstoodminds]

Yes. Thank you. Remind me what a bitch you think I am. Your confidence in me, knows no bounds. Bullshit. Thats all that comes out of your mouth.

[jennythethaiger]

I have some major character flaws. I think it's about time I change. I think it's time. I just hope it isn't too late. I know that I'm not the only one that sees them. If only changing to fit your standards was easy. Lets hope I'll turn out to be a better person.