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

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