Browsing through the Blue (final edit)

[71degrees]

Someday, my wall
will be filled not with baby butt-faces
or future models striking poses
but with sickness.

Someday, my wall
will be filled not with pictures of yummy cake
or memetically calculated heartache
but with silence.

Someday, my wall
will be filled not with jovial bits of distraction
or the elements of procrastination
but with sorrow.

Someday, my wall
will be filled not with your dirty messes
or your nightly struggle for successes
but with sleep.

A bit of a note: the awkward rhyming is intended, to add a sense of dissonance to the poem. Hope that idea works out.

We all have "walls" around us no matter where we go. I like that "idea" of the poem. What I'm trying to understand is the "someday" part but I'm not getting it at all. If none of this has occurred yet, where is it all coming from? Pretty much a downer, and that's okay…no one ever promised us a rose garden, did they? Although, no one ever promised that "someday" my princess would come either. So maybe it works. Something's missing in the message but I'm not sure what.