The waiting, the wandering,
As she finds herself between this and that,
Must she choose, either way it is a slow certain death,
How can she divide herself in that way?
Oh, the waiting, the wandering,
Shall she wait to grow old and wise,
Will then her decision perhaps be any easier?
No.
It seems she is forced to wander, to wonder,
Shall she ever see an end to this painfully empty, so-called life?
Help!
She screams,
Still who will answer the bothersome questions that plague her restless mind,
Her wondering soul,
Now she walks the path, straight and concise,
Does she dare alter her strange journey of endless contemplating and self doubt?
Sometime I wish she would.
