Waiting Room

I’ve been trying to get to her.

But I can’t.

I’m in the waiting room.

I close my eyes and I can see her, alone, scared, alone.

I can’t get to her.

I’m in the waiting room.

I scream to her, “I can see you!” that doesn’t matter.

I’m not with her.

I’m in the waiting room.

I see her tears stream down her face as she shakes waiting.

I can’t get to her.

I’m in the waiting room.

Tears burst forth my eyes as I feel like I’m being held back from moving forward.

She’s alone dying inside.

I’m in the waiting room.

I can’t breathe as I see her drowning.

I can’t get to her.

I’m in the waiting room.

She screams out for me, “Where are you?!”

“I’m trying to get to you!”

I’m in the waiting room.

My body is held down by time.

Can you get to her?

I’m in the waiting room.

She slowly finds herself alone and goes On without me.

I didn’t get to her.

I’m in the waiting room?

I pull out a pistol. Put it to my head. And…

I didn’t shoot myself?

That wasn’t the waiting room?

Was that a nightmare? Thank god I was a nightmare.

I didn’t get to her.

She was in the waiting room…

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