As the dry bite my throat hard

Like an itch waiting to be scratch

The thirst needs to be drenched

And so as I wait for all the time to be filled

I look


Along the narrow corridor

And wait

Before, it was…

Well, him

Always, every morning

That is why perhaps

It is not accidental that I would

Most perhaps spend quite a time


And Waiting

Perhaps it was not the water that I want

Perhaps it was the person

That I almost always see

Out from his room

As I wait for the glass to be filled

And so every passing moment

I would wait



As the glass begin to fill

Realization hits me hard

Manic starts to rise

The tears start to fall

And I look into nothingness


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