Tomorrow, has my heart beating to the sound
Of a drum I’d rather not know, how can I show
Up with the knowledge that this rapid fire exchange
Of words will burn the only freedom I’ve tasted in my
19 long years on this earth, here I go, deserting plans

Making back-ups for when it all hits the fan and gets
Shredded into pieces too small for my human hands
To reassemble, and I tremble at the thought of
Slamming these hundred open doors, wishing limbs
Would protrude and someone could pull me through

Regardless of the circumstances, is it really too much
To ask for, and tomorrow, the answers will fall like
Snow, cool to the touch but soft on the soul, it’ll never
Help how many times I’ve been told this is the best thing
How can I bring myself to believe that when that phrase

Has perched on my eardrum for centuries, emotions
Have become undone, ones which I tied and gagged and
Stored in the back of my thought processors, errors, 404’s
Which somehow managed to get through that torn wall,
Ripped apart by harsh truths and even harsher realities

I’m afraid to speak, that every syllable spells defeat
And I’m escorted like when I’m five years old, too
Scared to walk up the corridor alone because there are
Murderers hiding under my bed, but no, the only murderer
That is left is me, slaughtering my future to feel relief

It happens tomorrow, tomorrow at 3.


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