It seems like half of my life has been wasted.
Waiting for the lyrics to a song I can't remember,
for that unspeakable word,
for the perfect thought,
for the right weight of an arm
draped with the perfect amount of casualty
like a stole on my shoulders.
Somewhere in all of this pointless wasteful waiting
I've missed out.
So sad,
a life half empty.
I don't think I'll be sitting
head in my hands
on curbs anymore.
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