Fly Away With The Wind

With hope
That is always said.
Hope for what?
A broken heart?

Some say hope is a bird
It flies away with the wind.
Some say it is a rock
Sturdy and never moves.

But to me
Hope is dead
It never existed
It is imagined

Hope has never helped me through.
Hope has never made me feel better.
Just worse.
Like a butterfly with a broken wing.

But if hope really does exist,
If it is really out there,
Then my wings are not broken.
I will fly away with the wind.