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Then she met the sun rising above the sky
superior to its servants, for 'tis the bright light
giving shelter to trees and flowers —
her morning is as rough as the dried sunflowers.

She ne'er-do-well at nights that seem to haunt her every time the moon arises from below —
the moon whom she hates when it strikes at six o'clock and the sun sets at five o'clock, she never gets the time to smile.

Tomorrow with her is never home.
A night with her could be considered as the curse.
From o'er the horizon, she looks up above, and scream, “Even songs I love I could not hear!”
Her little hymn and tones turned into lulla-byes—
a lullaby to good-bye.

“Tis the time to go home", she said, but what if night ne'er sets down and tomorrows turned ashes and good-byes?

When will she go home?
I just turned 20 a few days ago and this piece was made months ago haha. Hope you'll have a good day.
Svetoslav Apr 24
tomorrow's world changes today
believe that joy will never leave
emerald glass surrounds sorrow
rainbow eyes are there to follow
My Dear Poet Apr 20
Through empty hallways
and the wide corridor of life
days, like doors, are unopened
for fears of welcoming strife
reluctantly, we refuse to look
into a new day, like a locked room
known only by unlatching a hook
to find the futures not so gloom
Yet running to the day before
We drop ‘Today’,  like a lost key
that unlocks the day behind that door
where ‘Tomorrow’, could set us free.
The words I could never say
Fall as silent tears now
By tomorrow theyll be forgotten
But I can only escape them for so long
he knows its wrong, and I cant stop him. Ive tried, and no one else will. No one else listens. And we're all going to suffer the consequences.
rgz Apr 11
How to dress well (and that I'd rather dress comfortably.)
How to hide the laces in my shoes.
That it's apparently "learnt".
How to walk with a limp,
when to walk away.

How to look mean while avoiding eye contact.
Where to find the best coffee.
How to write a bad sonnet.
How to kiss the right way.
Where to find the wrong girls.

How to sing sad songs.
How to roll a decent joint.
How easily a wasted day
can become a wasted life.
How to hold my liquor,
when to hold my tongue,
not to hold my breath.

When enough is enough.
When enough is too much.
When to hold the door open.
How to set a deadline with no intention of adhering to it.
How to feel alone in a packed out club (and where to find the smoking bit).

That time heals nothing
but memories fade.
How long a piece of string is.
That no matter how bad a day you're having, tomorrow can always be worse.

Tomorrow can always be better.
How to keep going
Man Apr 9
his teeth were rotted out
but he left no time
for regret
for there is no regress
from the state he finds himself in

how it had come to this
boy, he didn't know
fervent drug use
frequenting their misuse
forget it
for tomorrow, is another day for worry

humbled by his lack of knowledge
beset, on knowing's acquisition
further than the last day
faster too
father lost himself to his ambition
Life is not fair, friend
when I am here
and you are not
when you were ensnared
by addiction and desires of flesh
a soul left here to rot

The existing situation is not so great
born of our differences
where we did not gain a scar
knowing love did not spare us pain
moving us forward into unknown embrace
and only served to make us who we are.
Lani Apr 6
Tomorrow,
Next week,
Next month,
Next year

They're all the same.

"I'll lose weight tomorrow."
"I'll study tomorrow."
"I'll finish tomorrow."

But tomorrow never comes.
Horrible, I know, but I just wanted to publish something.
Can't manage my own memory,
fading.
Deteriorating.
Smoked too much,
consequences are all I have.
The herb has given me peace,
now without it
I can't be at ease.

I cannot see better days ahead,
what am I gonna do about it?
I cannot say.
When I close my eyes, I'm filled with nothing but dread.
**** it, come what may.
repost
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