Sitting here, waiting
Which is basically the equivalent
Of grating
My forehead
Against a cheese grater.
For seconds minutes hours.
Soon, there'll be nothing left,
I'll be an empty shell of myself.
My bored tired pieces scattered all across the floors
As I wait
and wait
and wait
For something that I really should've ignored.
YOU ARE READING
Translated thoughts
PoetryJust a book where I put all the emotions I don't want to show Welcome to my head Collection of freestyle poems (The first few suck. But then they get better. I promise)
