I sit at the table, breadsticks for my sorrows
Stood up again, the same case follows
I'm not worth her time, she won't come
So I sit at that table, now table for one
The anxiety creeps into my head
Voices linger and they all said
You will die alone in this putrid place
You have never been worth the wait
Even with all those voices in mind
I still wait in case she arrives
I know it's not happening, I knew that too well
But it's better to have hope, then to fall straight to hell
Any ideas for what I should write next? Writers block sucks
