The Opposite of Hope

I walked a road that led to silence,

Each step heavier than the last.

The air was thick with broken moments,

And time refused to let me pass.

"Why am I still here?

When did the world start feeling like a weight,

Not a wonder?

I can’t even tell if I’m standing still,

Or falling..."

This is the opposite of hope,

A weight that drowns and holds you still.

No fire burns, no voices call,

Just empty hands and fading will.

The world feels distant, blurred, and hollow,

A place where shadows block the sun.

I reach for something I can’t follow,

A race I’ve lost before it’s run.

"I don’t remember the last time I felt warmth.

I don’t remember the last time I cared.

I’ve been holding on,

But to what?

To memories that aren’t even mine anymore?"

This is the opposite of hope,

A place where light has learned to hide.

No dawn, no rise, no second chances,

Just whispers from the other side.

But even here, beneath the silence,

A single thread begins to show.

It pulls against the weight of sorrow,

A fragile sign that starts to grow.

"What is this?

A thread, a spark,

Something so small it feels ridiculous.

But it’s there—

And it’s mine."

The opposite of hope dissolves,

When something small begins to rise.

A spark, a breath, a trembling promise,

A new beginning in disguise.

"Maybe this isn’t the end.

Maybe it’s the start of something

I don’t even know how to name yet.

But I’ll keep moving.

One step. Then another."