Hope

We know that God may not be real, But still, on our worst days, we feel Like someone is watching from the sky, And when it gets too much, he'll come by. We know how religion can make a mess, So many lies, so much stress. But still, we want someone good and true, Someone to guide us in what we do. A person we can look up to and say, "I want to be like them someday." Someone whose life can show the way, To change ourselves, to be okay. I know all this, but I'm still unsure, About what I believe, and what is pure. Am I spiritual? Or don’t I believe? I keep wondering, feeling confused and naïve. Maybe it's all about what we get— If our wishes come true, we say we’re "spiritual" yet. And if not, we start to doubt, But still, we don’t throw the idea of God out. So I stand somewhere in between, Not sure what my thoughts really mean. But I think the hope we keep inside Is something that helps us survive.