The Wings of Time

Dreams. Hopes. Aspirations.
All rest on the wings of Tomorrow, and I wonder if I'll ever make it there. I'd like to think of Tomorrow as some fairy tale land far away where little girls don't have to grow up and evil men are punished for the crimes they commit. I'd like to think of it as a place of escape from all of the pain caused by yesterday, a place where I won't be punished for this beautiful mahogany that many call skin, somewhere that my anatomy won't bring about the demise of men. I'd like to think that my journey to Tomorrow lies just beyond yesterday, but I know that's not the case because for four years, I've been trapped inside of today. A place such as Tomorrow, void of trauma and disdain, cannot exist because of little girls like me, little girls filled to the brim with bitterness and pain. And if, by chance, there is a possibility that Tomorrow may exist, I know I'll never make it there because I put everything into my journey to today that wasn't taken from me when I was murdered by yesterday. Tattered clothing, worn shoes, weary eyes, and open wounds are all I have to show for this treacherous fight that has continually ensued. I'd like to think that healing lies within the boundaries of Tomorrow, healing and hope alike because with healing comes the hope that I may actually find peace. I'd like to think that someone on the outskirts Tomorrow will hear my cries of desperation and take pity on my frenzied pleas. And there's a part of me that knows that the ordeals I endure today will fade away as some distant memory if I could just make it to Tomorrow.