Waiting for Me

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Abstract

r swing now For life’s every miss That’s kept me on the wrong side</p><p id="e32c">The wall has always shown misleading cracks of hope But they withstood time as strongly as cement holds I’m starting to believe they’re painted on</p><p id="b9f0">I’m still dwelling here in the cold Next to the corpse of my old self Imagining a future beyond the wall I’m too weak to climb</p><p id="e447">I continue to hope, dream, beg For the power to break open, and step into my new life And bury the old, right where my feet once stood, waiting</p><p id="6b04">But if I’m cripplingly honest I can’t do it … I can’t do it</p><p id="e843">No matter how great a life that’s out there No matter how patiently it waits for me I’m still waiting for me.</p><p id="b421"><i>© Rose Butcher, 2021. All rights reserved.</i></p><div id=

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"f897" class="link-block"> <a href="https://rosehaswords.medium.com/list/955d0df52eac"> <div> <div> <h2>My Emo Poetry</h2> <div><h3>undefined</h3></div> <div><p>undefined</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*71c2814d805c7e57fb50c8b2d5c2e1a238ed7a10.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="c8a7">Are you a writer looking for your tribe? Love to read? Want full access to Medium? <a href="https://rosehaswords.medium.com/membership"><b>I’ve got you covered.</b></a></p><h2 id="3641">Join my free newsletter for exclusive personal growth posts. 🌱</h2></article></body>

A poem about feeling that a good life is far out of reach

In a world of boundless sky I am a flightless bird With feeble legs

My real life is waiting for me Over a great brick wall But I’m still stuck in the wrong side’s mud

No matter how furious I fight No matter how heavy my weight No matter how my knuckles bleed into the bricks

Another swing now For life’s every miss That’s kept me on the wrong side

The wall has always shown misleading cracks of hope But they withstood time as strongly as cement holds I’m starting to believe they’re painted on

I’m still dwelling here in the cold Next to the corpse of my old self Imagining a future beyond the wall I’m too weak to climb

I continue to hope, dream, beg For the power to break open, and step into my new life And bury the old, right where my feet once stood, waiting

But if I’m cripplingly honest I can’t do it … I can’t do it

No matter how great a life that’s out there No matter how patiently it waits for me I’m still waiting for me.

Are you a writer looking for your tribe? Love to read? Want full access to Medium? I’ve got you covered.