Some+Kind+of+Hope+(Brooke+Lockwood)

(VERY rough draft)

How does this broken, dying world still turn? Death, lies, ignorance punctuating life, Chaos rising with the ocean’s sad churn. Pain and toil, each person has their own strife That they must bear, a unique wound that marks Them forever. What can anyone do When for such a few there are lucky larks, The rest left with a false, vague hope in lieu? E- Volta F E F G G