this time

"this time would be different", the greatest lie I know. Summer's always hot and winter always brings snow. so why am I so hopefully ignorant, about how nothing changes, no matter what you try to do, and how no one rearranges, the day to suit you. hope is a drug, and I'm an addicted fool, waiting on the impossible. hope is a bug, and I'm a sickly mule, longing for the improbable.