A desire to rewind

My shadow walks ahead of me
And a future, seemingly, has fallen behind
Hazy memories through which I hardly see
All that remains is a desire to rewind.
Beads of sweaty destiny trickle down my forearm
It slips away;
As I attempt to catch them in the palm,
Leaving behind promises of a new day
The day, which is never born
The promised sun, which never rises
Clouds of brood, which never melt
And a searing loneliness, which never ceases
A togetherness, which I never felt.