Hope is a beautiful thing.

All that seems to remain is a dark pit of despair filled with fear. Hopefulness forms a part of it, but the shimmer is dim. The glitter in me has diminished; I polish it every now and then. My soul shines brightly, but then again, I curl back into a ball of constant sobs. I have dreams. The ambiguity in the path baffles me. I step forward every day, hoping not to look back. There is a world that needs me. There is a world that I desire. In all the gloom, I disappear into a thick fog of hope, with the faith that I see a road ahead which will take me where I ought to be.

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