The cunning one

Upon the silken skein of hope
You cast your notes
And hope it becomes a masterpiece 
A token of note
But it becomes a scar 
For you to muse upon
The itch that never dies
A hope to choke upon 
A necessary evil 
That you've encountered before
But this one is biting back
To even the score 
Of a promise unkept
And a lie well told
From the lips of the young
To the hearts of the old
And so the cycle repeats 
On and on it will go
As you keep casting those notes 
On a silken skein of hope. 
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