Poem: Tomorrow

I wonder-what tomorrow shall bring?
Perhaps a tune, some song for me to sing.
Could it bring a flute, some instrument for me to play?
Or, perchance, the wings of an eagle for me to fly away.
Perhaps I shall walk here, or go there,
I could e'en find a crystal stair.
Tomorrow shall I eat and drink?
Shall I neglect hunger and thirst that I may dream and think?
Might it bring eyes that I may see
Through the facades decieving me?
Too much think I of tomorrow.

For each tomorrow is naught but pain and sorrow.
Tomorrow I shall not sing, I shall not dance.

But with each step shall I cast back a furtive glance
For fear of demons past and present that haunt my dreams.

I shall remind myself that e'er is nothing as it seems.
Shadows and dust only are tomorrow's lot,

Smiles are run away, for they are naught.
I shant laugh, no-Tomorrow I cry.

Conclude your final Jest, for Tomorrow...I die.