Tomorrow
I can feel the rotting thoughts in my head prosper throughout my body contaminating every living part of me like my souls been tarnishes by the tar and filth of the world, still waiting to achieve the greatness that will never come, feeling the peak of my life could have long passed. Not knowing what will come tomorrow or if tomorrow will even come at all. Questioning our existence as a priority for what will come next, but seeking death in my mind as an only escape. Let who hold the secrets of tomorrow, keep them in the back of their lungs and in it's deepest thoughts, refusing the temptation gossip. With one life gone and nothing left to do, what will come next. what will come next of you.
Copyright © Brandon Smith | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment