It's crazy how I can memorize this restaurant's menu,
from the choice of words in every pages and even this place's venue.
I see nothing has change from the moment I walked inside,
it's the same food, the same seat,
but the flowers on the table have died.
I looked around even if I know what I will see,
I scanned every tables even if I know how many chairs there will be,
I watched the kitchen door hoping for new meals on a new plate,
who am I kidding?
There's nothing new even if how long I wait.
I'm always scared of the thought of something new,
but having the same thing over and over again is horrifying,
no matter how much begging I do.
I'm now craving for a new seat, a much better one perhaps,
for this chair I'm sitting is a minute away to collapse,
I'm demanding a new food, maybe from a finer cuisine,
or maybe a michelin cook who will treat me as queen.
I am still sitting here, in the corner, waiting to be serve,
in a collapsing chair for the cheapest food cause maybe that's what I only deserve.
Disliking the menu is this restaurant's biggest nightmare,
and treating me as its VIP customer is a scene that is quite rare.
YOU ARE READING
This Isn't About You
PoetryA lot of people share the same struggle with you. Even if these poems are initially not for you, you feel like these poems are about you. These are inspired by random things; quotes, songs, gossips, and random thoughts.