TOMORROW'S FEAR
Oh the morrow,
How I fear what secrets you hold.
How I hate to give way to the night in sleep – in fear of the morrow being a repeat of yesterday.
I seem never to live for today as I battle the broken dreams of yesterday,
Hating the night as night gives way to morrow.
Oh wretched memories,
Why can you not be gentle and sweet?
Why do I indeed hate your every moment?
Why when I hear others talk of “the good ole days”,
Do I keep looking towards the future?
Why are there no “good ole days” for me?
Why only ugly scars of days gone by?
I hear people say that history predicts the future.
If so, why not fear the morrows?
For me, history is so full of pain and shame – my life so full of uncertainties.
How many times have I tried to muster the courage to go back,
To the past and slay the beast that devours my soul daily?
Only then will I be able to sleep through the night,
Only then will the morrow hold a welcome sight,
Only then will my life be all right.
