Sleazy

There is somehing sleazy about hope. Creeping up inside in spite of all attempts to deaden the neves. Like a phantom limb. An unquenchable thist. Hope is waiting on an answer that has yet to be imagined. It is freedom in belief of something better. An arangement one makes on a gamble. Putting everything on the line again and again. Hope is waking up to a new day and smiling. Again and again. Like a nervous tic, it reappears when you least expect it. Something you can't ignore and are sure to never forget.