We often tell ourselves that tomorrow we shall be a better version of ourselves. I so often do this.
I will also tell someone I will call you tomorrow. Yet I know...Tomorrow, you might not be around. Neither might I.
The raging fires of today will be embers tomorrow. In that faint shimmer you might find the ashes of my desire. My remains.
Tomorrow. Is not today. Tomorrow. Is not yet here. Tomorrow. Might sometimes be away. Forever.
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