Hope springs eternal, or so they say
From Pandora's box, all the horrors
Of the world were vomited forth.
Only weak, litter-runt hope was left
With nothing else to stand in its way.
 
Out into the world it crawled,
Blind, mewling and twisted
A bitter stunted mutant
desperate for attention.
 
It turned to man for succor and love
It begged and fawned and prostituted
But man was busy embracing the horrors
And those beasts would not be substituted
So hope was kicked and abused and turned away.
 
It seeped and cringed
Weak and sick and puny
An abomination unwanted
A wretch filled with dismay
 
So came the day when man was beaten
Broken and tortured and defeated.
They searched for something to drive back the dark
They searched for a glimmer of light
When at last they remembered
That which they had turned away
 
They searched for it; that twisted runt
To press it to their bosom.
To feel the warmth of expectation
To see the horrors undone.
 
But far and wide, an uneasy truth
Was breaking with the dawn
They had chased it off, forced it to move on
And now;
All hope was gone.