Hope Is a Wet Dog

Hope is a wet dog following me home through the rain;
it won’t go away, though I yell and throw stones at it.

It barks at the door through the night,

scratching incessantly.
I could live contentedly cynical and bitter
if this vain hope would just leave me alone.

Stupid pointless hope,
‘cause nothing ever changes
waiting for the dawn,
and that damned dog
is barking at the door.
Though I know I will regret it
I let him in.