Whispers from a Broken Tomorrow

Introduction: What if the future is already breaking? This poem speaks of a world once filled with promise, now crumbling beneath the weight of choices made long after and diary notes seem to warn you about your course of action.

I woke to dawn’s soft golden hue,
a day like any before,
yet something whispered in my mind—
a sign I couldn’t ignore.

A sudden urge, a fleeting thought,
led me to lift my pillow’s weight,
beneath it lay a folded note,
its words inscribed by fate.

The inked confession chilled my skin,
a tale of sorrow—written by me?
It spoke of love that burned then broke,
of wounds I’d yet to see.

At first, I brushed the words aside,
a trick my weary mind had spun,
but every morning, new notes came—
a war I’d lost before begun.

Each letter bled of love and loss,
of heartbreak I had never known,
yet as I read, a thought took root—
could time be set in stone?

Then came the day I saw the date,
the truth rang clear, a hollow chime—
these words were warnings from myself,
a ghost of future time.

I swore it false, some cruel disguise,
a jest the universe had made,
until I met the girl foretold,
and felt my heartbeat fade.

I saw the fire in her eyes,
the spark that once had set me free,
but in those notes, I saw my fate—
a love not meant to be.

To shield my heart, I turned away,
ignored her voice, refused her call,
I swayed the course of destiny,
ensuring I would never fall.

Yet fate is cruel—my hands still shook,
for when I read the notes once more,
the words had changed, the ink had blurred,
revealing truths I’d failed before.

One final page lay crisp and bare,
no words, no pain, no bitter ache,
just one last choice, a whispered vow—
"To love, or live a life so fake."

But as the days kept passing by,
the notes remained a hollow shell,
no guiding words, no destined path—
just silence where the warnings fell.

And then I knew—the choice was false,
no lines were drawn, no fate was set,
I was not bound to paths foretold,
but to a road unwritten yet.

So I won’t walk where whispers lead,
nor chase the ghosts of days unseen,
for I alone will carve my fate—
not by what was, but what will be.

💭 Reflection: What if the future we build is already breaking beneath our feet? This poem reflects on choices, consequences, and lost possibilities. 💬 Do you think we are heading toward a future of progress or ruin? Share your views below! 📌 Follow for more