we're waiting for tomorrow
but tomorrow never comes
our last breath is right upon our heels
yet we still refuse to run
86 400 seconds
and we're in another day
all slipping through our fingers
as we look the other way
days weeks months and years
are made up of right now
a string of fleeting moments
that we never can pin down
we gaze into the future
as though it's where we're meant to be
always planning for that day
when we can say that we're happy
we spend so long looking forward
that we may as well be blind
since we don't see until the very end
all things we've left behind
all the things we've left behind
now I know it's just a theory
but I think I've worked out how
the only way to happiness
is to love what we have now
YOU ARE READING
Unspoken Poetry
Poetry⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ if any of the tagged things are sensitive to read about or makes you feel uncomfortable, please do not read! I'd hate to be the reason you feel either way.
