Death of Waiting

The death of waiting,

a vice grip on my chest denies me the option to breathe,

my wrists bound in cuffs of limitation,

feet stuck in frustration,

mind set on fascination but body tied,

a cell with five sides I see the sky,

walls just too high to climb I see the sky,

watch blissful people hanging on stars,

a feast on the moon, blessed on the crest of the clouds,

I see crowds together, all crowned in round suns

throngs bobbing in sobbing songs

flocks of shock and excited wings

I grasp the air with lungs unsung

Gasp for a chance at a voice at a noise

a thin stream of air, an unclean unfair

a moment until moment next,

I wear down

if only to tear down myself,

to tear down this cage of my hate and my rage

a skull under pressure to do but to wait

a deep brittle cracking from all I am lacking

attacking a clock when I know I am wrong

truly wasting myself away in my cage

in a fight against blessings I hide from my sight

and the grip I allow to keep me from flight.