In an outwardly form of Pessimism
how you hold that sinful Optimism.
Like a dried plant
maintaining a secret store of sap
you long for the monsoon.
Circumstances stitched by Time
gang up to form an organism
That hounds you into escaping.
There are others you've noticed
who have fallen prey.
You reduce expectations
but beat them each time to survive.
Once in a while you pull up
to an island of solitude and pretend
to be not looking at the clock.
A survivor's guilt takes over
as you admire the journey so far.
But again, you announce to the world
Your hopelessness and lack of hope.
Fake that you are pessimistic
while you have been confessing
"So far so good."
But again, what else can you say?
Remember, others have fallen prey.
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