There Is No Tomorrow

Foreword / Introduction

I have a preference for political poems, but I also know that talking about specific causes will always make people really upset. Being 13, that’s not exactly the kind of thing I want to cause, which is also why I removed some of my previous poems. I’m just too scared to make people angry. It’s part of my personality.

So, I’m trying to adjust my writing to be able to blur lines. To help blur these lines, you’ll also see that I won’t include the foreword/introduction section in some future posts, because I know I might otherwise unblur the lines myself. I hope you enjoy this new poem series.

If you’re interested in my poems about foster care and adoption, I’ll still write those too, but I’ve had retraumatization these summer holidays and struggled a lot with my PTSD. Right now, I’m working on a regular post about my foster care and adoption experiences before I write any more poems on the subject.

Poem: There Is No Tomorrow [free-verse, social commentary]

They talk like they’re helping, always acting wise,
say they’re changing the world, making things safe.
But every promise becomes another letdown,
telling how “tomorrow is bright,” but the night is just colder.
People say it’s normal, but it always feels off;
truth is, the way out just gets further away.

Everyone is putting on shows, fake grins all round,
chasing perfection, making problems out of nothing.
They talk about hope, but the vibe is always heavy.
All the words just blend, nothing makes sense.
Try and believe them, but trust goes missing;
feels like the end is written, nothing left to replay.

Push harder, they say, keep fighting through,
but every “fix” leaves more cracks in the surface.
If this is help, it’s not what anyone asked for.
No one is here for what really matters; it’s all just noise.
Pretending they do good, but it’s just another lie—
every day, the walls get higher, shutting out the light.

I watch others, see them chasing dreams,
but the ground stays shaky, not built for this.
Their so-called care makes the road harder.
Drops of hope get lost in the flood of letdowns.
Wish someone really meant it, but they never do—
just voices echoing, stories played on repeat.

No one asks the real questions, just shut you out quick.
They say “hold on,”—but where to, when there’s nothing to grab?
Laugh it off, fake it, hide what is real.
It’s just endless circles, no finish line near.
All their big ideas, just words floating in the air;
the truth stays hidden, buried under empty promises.

Sometimes I wonder if tomorrow even shows,
if anything gets better, or it’s just the same.
People keep talking like they’re heroes, but never help.
I wish for escape, not another speech.
Darkness sticks around; nobody turns up the light,
so I just wait for the end, hoping it feels like peace.

---