I am the tiger that hides from himself, eating my stripes to become something else, in a jungle of my own design, where I’m trapped in the thorn vines of enemy time. Yet I, in time may change my views, staying the same by trying to become something new. Like Icarus with wings of wax, until my self-destructive choices made me fall too fast; into a past that seems filled with sorrows. Another crash landing, where I find myself in tomorrow. “Tomorrow” a word that seems deceptive at best. For tomorrow is only a past that I have not lived yet, but the memories will be there, still be piled on the shelves, just another day of wishing I was somebody else.