THE WAIT

Perhaps, the skepticism behind my toil generates conflict between me and my internal self. Hence, the concept of "The wait" is undiscerned.

It is strange how I paved the way for the desperate illusion of perfection. 

In my lifetime, the pains I have known cannot be told, yet, I waited in line yearning for better days that were yet to befall.

What honor do I owe the patience that has come to stay?  

Then, I wish could be taken far away from where peace is free but who am I to choose a life that has chosen me?

How healthy is the wait that made me gnarled in dolour? 

Of all tales I have ever been told, "Everything will be fine" was the scariest.