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J G Mar 2015
The waiting is what slows me down,
The waiting makes me weak.
The waiting that draws out my days
And keeps me from my sleep.

The waiting keeps me dwelling long;
Gives hopes of nothing more.
When I decide to recognize,
I'll be waiting here no more.

Waiting weeks for something good
Or expecting something bad,
Keeps my mind on what just might;
Not all the great I have.
J G Mar 2015
Aspirating on my aspirations,
I turn this stress to breath.
J G Mar 2015
Lately, his patience runs thin.
Onerous burdens, born in mind,
Vested into he who allows them.
"Exhaustive, yet necessary," he sighs.

— The End —