author's note: this is a bit irregular looking but it's okay, it's still poetry :)
What I'm Waiting For
A ticking clock
I await the call
This is the final countdown
The last stretch of the race
Will I still be there,
after the clock runs out?
Will I join the few, the proud?
Or will I hang my head in shame,
knowing that I didn't make it?
I guess there's only one way to find out...
I'll play your waiting game
My mind will race all day
I won't want the call to come
I'll half expect it,
every time my phone goes off
And when I don't get it?
I will smile with relief
and actually breathe again...
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