Some say it's the light

At the end of the tunnel;

The candle in the dark;

A lone star, to light your way home.

But in this cold, barren prison,

Where the jailors are the rich

The inmates – the poor

Where your cell is just –

Another cramped, mutilated shack –

How long can your dream

Survive in this desolate cold?

A dream must be nurtured,

Not stunted by ambition

Only the light of hope can break

Through this mold of darkness

Like a flash of brilliance,

A fallen star.

Just like the rest,

It glimmers, than is gone

Leaving the dream to die in the shadows

Hope, just a matter of perception