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tomorrow seems promising

but there is still time to fall short of my own expectations today

By Jeffrey SparksPublished 2 months ago Updated 2 months ago 1 min read
tomorrow seems promising
Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

I’ve got nothing to say,

but I still write a page.

One paragraph deep,

my words fall like sleet.

Then suddenly dry up fast

when I fail to contrast.

My sentences now lack wit,

and my syntax is shit.

But still, I carry on,

inserting words that don’t belong.

I will read this tomorrow

and ask myself what went wrong.

Why were these lines in my head?

Would I rather be illiterate instead,

of publishing such trash,

or am I just being rash?

I know I can write well

even if no one can tell

by my childish rhymes

or cliché references to time.

And I'm doing it again,

so I guess it's true;

I have nothing to say,

but tomorrow I may.

performance poetry

About the Creator

Jeffrey Sparks

Adversity is kindling I choose to burn to keep my hands warm in winter ensuring my words will stretch beyond the years that turn my bones to dust.

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