What is the time,
That passes us by,
When we sit and wait?
Is it boredom?
Or perhaps it is fear,
That we would end up late.
But it's strange that for me it seems,
To be a choking pain,
An icy hand weaving over my heart,
Am I waiting in vain?
I think it is must be loneliness,
That's feasting my insides,
Or maybe it's the looming darkness,
To which I mindlessly abide.
And as I stared at the seconds crawl,
I dream of hatching from this shell,
Yet somehow everyone's too distant,
To hear my helpless yells.
Please won't you probe deeper,
When I drop you subtle pleas,
For day and night I achingly long for,
Someone who'll set me free.
