What I Am

I am an alarm. I am a timer. I am a school bell.

This is what I am.

I do not speak for hours. I sit and I wait.

I wait for what?

I wait for when the time is right.

I wait for when I am ready.

I wait for when I am needed, not wanted.

This is what I am.

I wait, and I listen.

I listen for the sounds of those around me, talking, screaming, whispering.

I listen to these noises so that when it is my time to be heard, I will be ready.

This is what I am.

I listen, and I observe.

I observe those around me, I observe the world, spinning in circles.

I observe, not too terribly close, because if I do I become caught up in things that do not involve me. But I observe, so that when it is my turn to be watched, I will be ready.

This is what I am.

I wait, I listen, I observe. But now, I stop.

I do not listen, I do not observe, and I cannot wait.

Now is my time, and if I wait any longer, I will not be heard. Now, I speak.

This is what I am.

I speak, and when I do, those around me are caught off guard.

The world stops spinning, like I have stopped waiting.

And all listen.

All observe.

All wait.

They wait… for me to speak again.

This is what I am.

This poem is about: 
Me

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