I wrote a poem and it's in my book I just want to put it here;
Waiting...waiting...waiting...waiting...what would be happening if I wasn't waiting? Would I be at home? With my friends? Or would I be crying...alone...with blood running down my arms? Probably the latter.
Hoping...hoping...hoping...hoping...what would be happening if I wasn't hoping? Would I be broken? Would I have no hopes? Or would I be crying...alone...with blood running down my arms? Probably the latter.
Wondering..wondering..wondering...wondering...what would be happening if I wasn't wondering? Would I be dreaming? Would I be living? Or would I be crying...alone...with blood running down my arms? Probably the latter.
Crying...crying...crying...crying... what would be happening if I wasn't crying? Would I be with my family? Would I be walking my dogs? Or would I be cry- oh wait, I am crying...alone...with blood running down my arms. In the hollow space in my heart.
