deepundergroundpoetry.com
The day before tomorrow
Another day, another memory.
Bleek, dark and mostly grey.
Probably the same day tomorrow,
The same day as yesterday.
Those days seem colourless and lifeless.
Nothing to look back on.
Nothing too look forward to,
A life on repeat, a lifetime, gone.
This day may be the same as the last.
Tomorrow could be the same as well.
What is the point? I’m counting the hours until midnight.
And when the dawn arrives it is still my barren hell.
Would I dare to call this living?
It may be my existence from yesterday until tomorrow.
Living from day to day without direction or purpose,
The day before tomorrow, and all days after filled with sorrow
Bleek, dark and mostly grey.
Probably the same day tomorrow,
The same day as yesterday.
Those days seem colourless and lifeless.
Nothing to look back on.
Nothing too look forward to,
A life on repeat, a lifetime, gone.
This day may be the same as the last.
Tomorrow could be the same as well.
What is the point? I’m counting the hours until midnight.
And when the dawn arrives it is still my barren hell.
Would I dare to call this living?
It may be my existence from yesterday until tomorrow.
Living from day to day without direction or purpose,
The day before tomorrow, and all days after filled with sorrow
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