“‘Hope’ is the thing with claws”
By Brennan Berryhill ‘Hope’ is the thing with clawsThat scratches hold the soulNo matter how I shake the branchI cannot make it go The little bird was nice at firstIt kept me warm and dryBut cold hard truth’s a nasty thingAnd still the bird won’t fly I hate the looks to peripheryI hate the lingering faithBut the worst part of this clinging hopeIs that I … Continue reading “‘Hope’ is the thing with claws”
