Tomorrow Is Not Sorrow

A bitter-pill to sadly swallow

Is your sweet-self in sorrow

With possibilities of tomorrow.

 

Are you in respective denial

And am I inadvertently on trial,

I am innocent of your portrayal.

 

I am subjected and dejected

And I feel needlessly rejected

As it is like you have hatred.

 

You don't pursue my company,

And do you judge my insanity

As this was a forsaking travesty.

 

Come back from whence you went

And be my Angel, heavenly sent

Hell-bent on adhering to His Lent.

 

© Andrew Stevenson 30/06/2017

 

An edited piece.

 

Thank you. Love love, Andrew.