Seven minutes into tomorrow

Seven minutes into tomorrow
There’ll be sorrow
Filling spaces that are hollow
fistfuls of pain I cannot swallow

These words that once soothed me
Taints a tongue that now grooves thee
You’ve pulled sutures from wounds
To leverage futures with gloom

It won’t be the same tomorrow
Living amongst sorrow
Where I’ve stopped revelling at stars
No longer scribbling my memoirs

These words, O’ how they stain
Your murmur— it’s engrained
I bide my time until it rots
Where my actions are just thoughts

But in time I’ll realign
to keep these seconds unconfined
to wear my minutes, unabashed
to spread tomorrow til it’s clasped
where the clock will spin to lash
To wear our sears until their ash
Shall I fashion me a bloom
To where this sorrow won’t resume?