Tomorrow Might Be

Tomorrow might be the day when my face hits the gravel of the parking lot

Dark stones calling for me, anxious to see my demise

Though I walk along the pavements with my toes swollen in anguish

Still I have not fallen

Desperately the pebbles call to me
Leaving a spot open near the neighboring fence

Close enough to haunt me of my peril and far enough to tease me with a home.

Either way I felt the poverty dripping in the sweat from my face.

Garbage! I smell garbage!

Beaten by the sun 100 degrees and still I burn

Hotter and hotter, still
My flesh peels and I burn

Tears escape my heart
Windows letting fear flow

Anger.. I'm not strong enough to feel
Fear... Has become my reality

A knock will come
A phone will ring

Thirst cannot be quenched
My stomach will scream for nourishment

My ribs will protrude from my flesh
My body will collapse in weakness

Tomorrow... Tomorrow might be the day.

(c) 2011 T. Y. Lightbourne