Tomorrow,
it's not promised.
Due,
to war and conflict.
The next day,
becomes a dream.
because of weather,
extrem.
Is the future now a pipe dream.
Is it something,
that we,
can still invest in.
Is the dawn still bright.
Or has it become,
an unrealistic site.
Where,
does our date and destiny lie.
What has been manifested,
will not sustain.
We have boarded,
the midnight train.
Just open the windows and see.
The horror,
poverty and atocity.
And all that humanity,
has brought to seed.
Forsaking,
our greatness.
And potential.
We choose instead,
the wickedly sinful,
and simple.
Leaving tomorrow,
just a symbol.
of despair.
A tragedy,
in a world of comical,
indifference.
After all the blessings,
we,
have been given.
And squanderd away.
To the point,
of end days.
What is it.
That has guided.
Us all,
astray.
© Joseph harris