Draw your final breath
Then wait till death
It does not come
The clock strikes one
So wait some more
The clock strikes four
He's still not here
Don't freat or fear
You ask around
He's sill not found.
He never shows
And no one knows
So late for fate
And still you wait.
YOU ARE READING
Internal screaming translated to something a bit prettier
Poesíajust any poem that I've written that isn't a love poem really
