My Hope

My Hope

There is no way
to rid myself of hope.
I hold on to it like there were none,
like there were no chance for tomorrow.
This grip I have on hope
chokes the very source of its life
and lets me fear
the very thing I trust most
failingly.
The claims I make
of being hopeful
are as real as the end of my hope
that never comes about
because I can’t let go of hope
replace it with real.