Impatiens

Waiting

Waiting

The clock ticks

The hours away

Waiting

Like the child of three

Beside the front door

In the smallest hours of morning

Her golden curls

And pink cheeks

The image of innocence

That image ruined

By tear-stained cheeks

A face red from crying

A split lip

And a bruise along her temple

Waiting

For you

To come home

For justice

That never comes

Waiting

For love

That doesn't exist

For validation

Never given

Waiting

Waiting

Like the orphaned child

Left alone

Floored by grief

And no context

For comprehension

Waiting

Perpetually

For something

That will never come

Waiting

Endlessly

For something

That perhaps

Never existed

At all

Always waiting

Waiting for midnight

For an end to hunger pain

Waiting for the first of the month

For money in the bank

Waiting for tomorrow

For what's promised

But never given

Waiting for the future

Grasping that fragile hope

Of its sacred existence

Waiting

With blind eyes

Turned to a faceless clock

Waiting

For a fulfillment

Of irrelevant words

Uttered not for integrity

But for stifling

To cut my tongue from my mouth

To silence me forever

Waiting

For joy

That only falls at my feet

In ashes

Burnt up by unkept promises

She plants impatiens

To remind her of what she is

Impatient

Impatience ought to have been

Her middle name

Impatiently waiting

All of her life

Weary of waiting

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting

For things that never come

Weary of trusting

The words of others

Weary of clinging

To that brittle hope

Weary of existing

In a life where

Integrity of word

Means nothing

Where the faceless clock

Ticks away the hours

The imaginary hours

Of man's construction

Which only marks off

The heartbeats we have left

Before we reach our grave