Tomorrow comes too soon — I am the taste of noon,
a mirror reflecting another's brilliance; I am just a moon.

In
A world that seeks to mould me into a mere tool, yet my
truest desire is to be a spoon, nourishing those who crave
love; those ensnared in a wicked life of their own doom
Still, all I aspire to achieve feels so insufficient,

For
Tomorrow comes too soon — I am the inquisitive shadow
lingering in a room. I've been transformed into a broom,
sweeping away many of my ideas— for all the countless
moments they appear in their eyes as something never close
to good

As
All the creativity I possess comes with the weight of having
so much to prove; I've stumbled many times, leaving me to
question the true fit of my shoes. Life wears me down by
day’s end, and the cycle begins anew.

Always
Tomorrow comes too soon.