A Series of Tomorrows

Ah, the future

A symphony of what-if's and what-then's

It flurries around my mind on an endless loop

It comes closer and closer

Each event coming to pass,

Each event a thing of the past

Not even over before I've begun to doubt

And worry and shout

About the next tomorrow,

The next plunder

When will it all stop?

When will I reach a day where tomorrow is like second-hand waste

Unimportant, barely in mind

Because every time I think

That this is all a waste,

All a haze,

A cloudy ball that's only clear the next day,

It only heightens my haste.

I wish I could live today without worrying for tomorrow

But anymore

It's just not possible