The wait.
Is what I hate.
Do I go or not?
One or four fruit?
Quick! Before they all rot.
“Wait”, he says. “Wait”, she says.
But my patience is eaten by fear.
It doesn’t make any sense. Every nerve is tense.
Tell me the end is near.
When the end arrives, has my end only begun?
An end to the boring wait, but the end to my fun?
Stop being indecisive. Stop with the “I don’t know”.
Determines if in the end I do live. It’s not a way for me to live.
Tell me all your thoughts and feelings. And in return, my emotions will show.
Make it end! Make it start! Even if I have to change.
Tell me if we end up together or apart.
For you, what do I have to exchange?
My heart?
Friends.
The end has come. It’s no longer near.
Did I get what we wanted? Or what I deserve?
At this point, I honestly don’t care.
The wait.
Is what I hate.
But if it means getting you back...start it over my dear.
One or four fruit? As I sit in the waiting chair.