Waiting
To be imbued with new life
Something to do
Someone to hold
Always waiting
For the conveyor belt of life to take me towards the place they say I should go
I could take a step myself
But my legs are frozen
Soon I will crash
Stumble
Lock-limbed
When the belt ends and ground begins
Far earlier than I am prepared for
Paralysed
I hate it when told what to do
Yearn to be told what to do
Never enough, always blaming mother because she does, because she doesn't
The epitome of grouchy.
YOU ARE READING
i tried: poems from a lost soul
PoetryA collection of sophisticated word vomit I puked up when I got bored. Updates whenever. Chapters ordered chronologically by date penned.
