Tomorrow Just Might Be To Late

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  • Sadness

    Tomorrow Just Might Be To Late

    I woke up this morning with this speckle in my eye
    for some odd reason my eyes would not let me cry
    I've tried and tried but couldnt place my finger on it
    but guess that was all she was trying to say
    that think about your life today
    because tomorrow just might be to late
    I've yelled and I also screamed
    but my mind kept on creating the same old thing
    to cherish life while your here
    because tomorrow you just maybe gone
    so cry for her not cause she went to her final home
    i woke up this morning feeling kind of down
    because when I thought of you I seemed to frown
    I drowned my sorrow and even my pain
    but all i wanted was just to hear her name
    iI called out to her once just to see if she
    would answer but she never answered me back
    so I started to cry letting tears roll down my eyes
    but I heard the sweetest voice
    telling me not to cry
    saying,"just because I'm gone to a better place
    doesn't mean I can't see the expression on your face
    so don't hold your head down low
    because baby we all must go
    so I shook my head and said my final goodbyes
    and tried to promise her i wouldn't cry
    so I dried my eyes
    but who am I to say
    that if you live every day as your last
    cause just maybe tomorrow just might be to late

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    bforibus commented on Tomorrow Just Might Be To Late

    02-10-2009

    damn. these are some profoundly sad poems. the dark colors play out a melody of pain. loved it

    leelee62002

    01/03/2011

    hi i wrote this poem cause i had just lost my mother in Jan 2009

    Plot121 commented on Tomorrow Just Might Be To Late

    02-10-2009

    A heart felt poem very moving good work Robert...

    riceryder commented on Tomorrow Just Might Be To Late

    02-10-2009

    wow nicely written

    In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

    Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

    leelee62002’s Poems (8)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Dream 1
    How Can You Judge ME? 3
    Lover's and Friends 0
    Until We Meet Again 1
    What Is Love? 1
    This Is ME 2
    Tomorrow Just Might Be To Late 4
    Is My Life Worth Living 5