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Hope is Idealistic
Hope is waning, at man's darkest hour.
Hope succumbs to hate, at our lust for power.
Look for prove, at the absent twin towers.
As blood stains the grass and flowers.
As war ensues and the innocent cowers.
What is there left, when diplomacy turns sour.
What is there left, when all hopes are devoured.
But hope is idealistic, an escapism for cowards.
