I’m not sure if there’s a worse pain in this world
than that of losing a friend
and being helpless to change things
to the way they were before.
The farther I wander the more I look back.
And I smile,
And then I laugh.
But I don’t want to go to sleep
Because sleep means that tomorrow
arrives just that much sooner.
I want all of my tomorrows to stay away.
Renewed anxieties and paralyzed depressions
and renewed oppressions
Tomorrow’s hopes are vague and distant
The slightest touch
and they turn to dust.
Held beneath pressures that refuse to relent
I run out of breath
as my lungs collapse.
Yet the sun will rise
and the tomorrows come
So I pick up the pieces
and pretend to move on.