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