Tomorrow Always Comes

Tomorrow

 

Staying awake throughout the night

Trying hard with all my might

To stop the coming of the day

To try and keep the pain at bay

 

Running far as the road will take me

Running from the grief that aches me

Such a pain so hard to bear

Fearing it is always there

 

All these things are just distraction

And a ‘life’s too hard’ reaction

Hiding from a haunted life

Hiding from the dawn’s new light

 

But as hard as I may try

I know the sun will always rise

And when all is said and done

I know tomorrow always comes

 

 

 

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42 thoughts on “Tomorrow Always Comes

  1. Lovely poem, and love how you made the sentences rhyme. Very sad one, I hope you’re feeling okay, better. No matter how much or how far we run, yes, the sun will always rise and tomorrow will always catch up with us. It’s autumn already, how time flies. Nice photo too.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’ve finally learned to recognise that if I start not wanting to go to bed at night, it’s usually because something is bothering me and I dread tomorrow. But, as you say, it will always arrive whether I want it to or not so the struggles just have to be dealt with in the end.
      Thanks, Mabel. 🙂

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  2. Interesting. I like the poem, of course–it’s good–but it helps you, sharing-but-not? I have to spill in order to obtain release.

    I’m sorry you had such a rough patch. I’m glad others were prompt and warm in their support. I’m late to arrive here, with particularly bony shoulders. Hugging does not come easily to me, unless someone is crying. If you’re secretly still crying, I’m unsecretly (yet only virtually) here for you.

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    • Sometimes there’s almost too much to say so yes, it’s easier to share-but-not. I am glad you saw the light on and thought you’d drop in. (Sorry, obscure reference to old soup commercial.) A visit from you is always welcome. Happily, things are better. Not done with, but better. 🙂

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      • I have been away from everyone’s places, including my own, for two weeks, I believe, until this weekend. Your place can be a bit difficult, reading the specifics about all your activity I cannot participate in either due to health or economics. I gave in today with the follow because, frankly, I like you. But don’t tell you I said so or you will be insufferable.

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        • I get that. There’s a blogger I can’t bring myself to follow because her running exploits just make me depressed.

          Someone else said something to me the other day about my blog posts that has me thinking that I might have to retire the Flying Beetroot after the half marathon is done and maybe not talk so much about frenetic activity. Find a different focus.

          I apologise in advance for the New York sojourn. I’ll keep it brief. 🙂

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          • Don’t you dare. Our blogs are our lives, exposed. That five-part series on my mom: Don’t you think I wondered about an audience for that? My attempt at telling the tale of my food poisoning and diarrhea–totally GROSS!! But I wanted to tell it! My blog is my diary–my puny fist-shaking rant! So I went for it! I just finished a 2400-word post that few will read about…well, you’ll see. It will post on another’s blog, and repost here. I know the length will limit the audience, but it is a vital part of what made me me.

            Your NY story is exciting, MoSY. Besides, I’m 1/4 Scottish! And I used to run. Only three-five miles a day, but still. (I liked hills, BTW : )

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      • Good Golly. Ego-Babe did it again. Ok, to let myself off the hook a bit, it’s more FIFO-Babe, sometimes, LIFO-Babe, and, this time, MIFO-Babe: I responded only to the middle of your comment.

        I am very glad unknown “things” with you are somewhat better, and of course wish for resolution to the positive rather than simple burying and bypassing. Good luck, MoSY.

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