If tomorrow didnt begin with that perky sun again,
If tomorrow like me,
Stayed in bed and didnt open its eyes.
Would I not be tomorrow then?
I could be tomorrow,
as tomorrow could be me.
Perkiness would go out the window
Frivolity would go down the drain
All that would remain
Is the sulky little child sitting on the window sill.
Staring at the darkness outside,
smirking,
For he has the sun in his Fist.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 4:15 AM UTC