A Hopeful Dirge

A tear of thorns rips his cheek
As he mourns the death of hope.

The dream's smouldering embers
Torture his mind with
Visions of dying laughter,
Infecting his heart with
Sadness-obscurred emotions
Built on shallow sand foundations

He walks away,
Not looking back,
For only the face of
Bereaved hope awaits him
In the past.

He wipes a thorn from his eye,
Believing hope only dorment,
Yet he mourns for
What could have been
As another tear shatters his dreams.