No Tomorrow
Despise the tendrils as they wrap my face
Sunlight spills across the weeping grass
Forgetting eyes that dimly stand as witness
The untouched line that offers travellers hope
And laughs
always beyond their reach
The bastard sun that tilts its whim
And keeps me here once more
Dreaming of the no tomorrow
while today reeks its wraith
Copyright © Christopher Quigley | Year Posted 2018
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