Future's Fodder

Damn the days of future's fodder
The riven plans of today and yester'
Know comes too late to bother
Too late for the bloody-handed jester

What good comes from a good tomorrow
When the next day's good is out on borrow?
From broken high, a stolen middle;
A grin belies the patch worked sorrow.

If only, if only, if this or that
If only: the cry of the guilty brat
The truth will shine through darkest times
The truth's been told and wove of crimes

Many children will wake
And pluck flowers with light in their heart
And so kill the bloom.

-DyMc