Maybe, Someday

Maybe, Someday

By Allie Marie

Maybe, someday,
I’ll get something right,
a fragile hope
divided by the light.

On somedays
everything I do or say
just seems to go to waste,
I get burned by gray.

But, everything you say
sounds like a dream.
I wish things are
as they seem.

My hands are unfolded,
held out open,
waiting for something
they don’t know yet.

My hands are scared.
The canvas is useless
without an artist
to take it away.

Maybe, someday,
two words held by hope.

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