This piece was written in a sort of trance-like state, so I cannot say with absolute certainty what it is about. I chose to simply “trust my pen” on this one, and made changes later so that the rhyme scheme and meter were correct. I think that it mostly reflects my frustrations about how stale and clichéd my feelings and my writings are. It seems that everything worthwhile to say has already been said in innumerable ways. This is probably more of a reflection of my own lack of creativity to make the writing interesting. In the heroic couplet, I believe that I am stating that tomorrow will come and what seemed witty and well-written the previous day will seem stupid and nonsensical. The sonnet is really a somewhat sarcastic ode to “tomorrow”, which will make my writing awful.
