a poem i wrote yesterday.

there is no way out
of being inside yourself
knowing yourself too well
to forget, it was about,
it was about time,
about the time you've waited,
for what seems like nothing,
nothing like what you had before,
or what you thought you'd have.

and now you're twisting inside,
inside your nerves are tangled,
as you try to tangle the present
with the past, is who you were,
the past is who you were.
But what is the future?
do any of you know the future?
Someone tell us please...
And who do you want to be?
can you find the space to dream?


the past is who you were.
the present is who you are.
the future is who you will be.