If Tomorrow Was Yesterday The Nights Would Win

Heading out and running to empty air filled with expectations that don’t care

who revives or decides fate into doling out what was given long before I breathed my existence into light.

Light. The dark follows and harkens my steps even with the source waiting to replenish the discards of the day that is passing.

Passing. I sprint by with the vigor of youthful opulence that I had once

and will have again

when I reclaim the days that have left me assembling for future absences.

Absence. Away and gone is my soul sometimes

as I wind around the bars of loneliness, I march into the dreads of tomorrow.

Tomorrow. If tomorrow was yesterday the nights would win.

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