My wedding is tomorrow
Foul these vain desires, 
Blame it on me,
Maybe tomorrow,
To the altar’s oath
Like many,
We shall walk through the isle,
Greening in my genteel gaunt
I will this honor bequeath to my well beloved tomorrow   

Tomorrow,

I shall not consider the qualities of a virtuous woman,
The which I wait,
How scarce!
This memoir will be extraneous tomorrow,
I bid you come to my wedding when Godliness mutates into morality, 
And the date is tomorrow.

Tomorrow

After our wedding, I must satisfy her,
Though painfully none of her species are so
I have labored, and it is for her belly
The weary days,
The sun and rains of my struggles are for my queen
She will come tomorrow
To this little that she despised

Tomorrow

Keep it in your journal,
She said, “I will come tomorrow”
Her delays are many
I must wait till tomorrow
When her quest for vanities are fully spent
Our wedding shall be tomorrow

Tomorrow

Her unspoken greed will vanish,
Her ostentatious exhibitions must die out,
She is sampling the beckoners still
She must see how affluent or how deprived I am, before she decides
And when she exits,
It must be by excuses of weightless form
Then tomorrow we shall deceitfully walk to the alter

Tomorrow
I bid you wait till tomorrow,
My companion is in the home
With him that must not be known,
The last delivery ere our vows
To her object of lust
Or her desire of a far country
Sleep oh Delilah, I shall wait till tomorrow

Tomorrow
Pray tomorrow
When virtue is burnt in secret
I shall see the spouse, yet not as chaste
I must nurture the wounds, the scars of other men
And regret, I never met her so
Yet she must do it again as she did before
We shall start tomorrow

Tomorrow
Heavy sleep shall close mortal eyes
When she dance as though truly she was never touched
Never aborted,
With all her lovers in the pew,
Mocking my foolishness, with unspoken memories of their memoir,
The victim of a wasted LovePeddler
Ready to fool the world in “unholy matrimony”

Tomorrow,
Pity me,
When she turned Unclad, flaunting foolishness for fashion
Call her not my wife,
When she fights on the street in rage and fury
Call her not my wife,
When vanities seats solidly on her brow,
Call her not my wife,
When pride and arrogance turn her loose against neighbors and her man
Call her not my wife,
When she gossips like little minds
Call her not my wife, 
When her beauty is merely external void of internal glories
Call her not my wife,
When godliness is exempted and the fear of God extinct
Call her not my wife
Think no shame on me, 
When her influence becomes a seed sown in innocent children


And
Rapacity full grown,
Children in Pretense and deceit,
Immoral
Seductress,
Flaunting shame, of forbidden fashion
Skedaddle the correcting of true counsel,
Cheap as the wife of my regret,
Our errors vivid and our shame stunning,
Regrets, 
I must marry tomorrow even a day before I die.

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Macaulay Akinbami