We Are Waiting For Tomorrow,
But Tomorrow Never Comes,
Our Last Breath Is Right Upon Our Heels,
Yet We Still Refuse To Run,
86 400 Seconds,
And We Are In Another Day,
All Slipping Through Our Fingers,
As We Look For Other Way,
Days, Weeks, Months And Years,
Are Made Up For Right Now,
A String Of Fleeting Moments,
That We Never Pin Down,
We Gaze Into The Future,
As Though It's Where We're Meant To Be,
Always Planing For The That Day,
When We Can Say That We Are Happy,
We Spend So Long Looking Forward,
That We May As Well Be Blind,
Since We Don’t See Until The Very End,
All The Time We Have Wasted Behind,
Now I Know It's Just A Theory,
But I Think I've Worked Out How,
The Only Way To Happiness,
Is To Love We Have Now.
Thank You
Tersina Maria Toppo
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