This time tomorrow,
the birds would go mute.
As their castles would disappear,
being cut down root to root.

This time tomorrow,
heaven would unveil it's wrath.
Your breath will grow heavier,
none would figure out the math.

This time tomorrow,
nickels would outrun humanity.
Killing each other to pay your bills,
selling fresh flesh and assuring quality.

This time tomorrow,
you won't have a mother.
You dare not wish for a sister,
for her to be dead is what they prefer.

This time tomorrow,
would you let a flower wither?
Would you be the silver lining?
Or would you just sit and wonder?