Waiting
I feel
like
I'm always
on the edge
of something.
Waiting.
For what,
I don't know.
Anything
happy,
or anything
sad,
it doesn't matter.
I don't feel
anything
but this dull
anticipation
that has nothing
to do
with
excitement.
It's killing me
slowly,
but I can't
figure out
how to stop it.
So I sit
here,
waiting.
I don't feel
anything
but this dull
anticipation
that has nothing
to do
with
excitement.
This poem is about:
Me