A Cup of Tomorrow

I pretend to have no reservations
say the world’s not made of glass
but blood has signed my resignation
it stains the walls, it stains the grass

the front lawn’s occupied by gnomes
they tap the door day and night
I answer, this is not my home
they were never there, in hindsight

nonsense is my mockingbird
she tells me, open the window
but silly me, I never heard
and locked her tight in my shadow

I pretend to have no reservations
the waitress sits me next to sorrow
but I hadn’t any preparation
and order a cup of tomorrow

© 2016 Stellular Scribe

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