The Waiting Room |
The chairs are empty...but
how many poor souls have cried -
cried out in anguish to be helped
I can feel the pain sitting here
the many hours of tears - and
day and nights of heartaches
I wait in silent anticipation for my turn
my calling card, my mind extraction...
this silence is like nowhere, where am I?
But nowhere is better than the outside
the noise, bedlam, insanity drives one crazy
there the voices come, blackness reigns
The sunflowers shining gold die
and the field becomes a ploughed calamity
the lines begin to shed blood
nothing but anguish and pain grow.
Written By B.R.Walker
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The Waiting Room
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