The waiting.
That's who we are.
Always destined to be?
Always waiting
for that
momentary breath,
that says time
is now ready for me.
It's finished baking,
take your share of this cake,
start eating
listen to your heart beating
twice as hard
and entertain the world
outside waiting.
Waiting.
We are the waiting.
Wasting minutes
as we watch
them fade into hours.
Too scared
to let those words moisten
these dry, chapped lips of ours.
So, we sit
waiting
as our time slips
on the pavements of life.
Skipping through streets
where your feet tripped
and you lost your grip of reality.
Waiting.
We are the waiting.
Our time hastened by
the fear baiting.
Always thinking but
too scared to let words rear,
worried about what may appear.
In case they make
everyone disappear.
Waiting.
We are the waiting,
like passengers sat
watching the empty roads
at a deserted station.
Disused, closed down.
Buses never circle this part of town.
No one ever comes around.
Painted before you had
even been born into this frown.
This long-forgotten building,
bordering the edges of a breakdown
Waiting.
We are there waiting
beside that aching open sea.
A wound in the earth,
constantly taunting.
Pulling me closer,
to look deeper and see,
what lurks in the deep, haunting.
My own fear ready to bite me.
Thanks for reading
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