When Tomorrow Has Nothing To Offer
Like art, hope is the cradle of life
with zeal, this cruel world
from frustration, our haunting zones
ours' are tormenting chapters untold
when tomorrow has nothing to offer
while soothing music shadow all the misery
And alarmingly ours to perish
mother nature's angry fumes
her rage great and highly infectious
without hope, fading of tomorrow's blossom
despair in rise....clued
into tomorrow's uncertainty
such haunting, I reluctantly quit
In finality, my pen bleeds
I shall feign the smile...you purport
as I ponder of a blank future, I dare quit
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