Tomorrow Doesn't Exist

I was asked to give the definition of tomorrow,

By a now-deceased friend of mine.

I never gave her an answer, so I suppose now I should tell you why.

As my pen scribbled, my thoughts a generic mist -

I stood paralyzed by the conclusion,

That tomorrow...

Doesn't Exist.

Tomorrow.

What once symbolized progress in the upcoming years,

Has become a hallowed shell that never shows its face,

Just leaves a trail of polluted black tears,

That were once diamonds.

Tomorrow.

We tell ourselves "tomorrow" as a silent promise for change,

But when yesterday keeps showing up in its place,

That promise is broken and our safe haven called "tomorrow,"

Becomes just like every other day.

Tomorrow.

I've grown tired and weary,

From drowning in this world's sorrows.

Watching our ancestor's legacies crumble all while waiting, HOPING...

For a better tomorrow.

But what are we to do when that hopeful day won't come?

When you spend your life waiting for this mindless cycle to break?

Tomorrow

My conclusion, old friend, about this elusive word "tomorrow,"

Is not at all what I originally believed it to be.

It is in of itself a truth, one that few have reached for themselves.

My final answer to your question,

About what it means to say "tomorrow,"

Is that "tomorrow," quite ironically,

Looks profoundly like Today.