The Wait

I feel like I’m waiting.
Sitting in nervous apprehension
Contemplating
Trying to cope with the tension.

I feel like I’m waiting.
For my friends to find their happiness
Anticipating
The day they find their bliss.

I feel like I’m waiting.
Poised in impatient agony
Enduring
This darkness inside of me.

I feel like I’m waiting.
Contemplating.
Anticipating.
Enduring.
Hoping.

That one day, I can be free.

Gilded

You sit and you sing
in your gilded cage.
watching with wary eyes
as I sit on the sill outside,
cold and huddled down;
just a dirty, downtrodden pigeon.
Nothing like you.

Chirping for attention
and the lies you’re fed,
you dare to judge.
Sing that success
is a cage like yours.
Scoff that I choose instead
to be outside in the cold.

But I say the joke is on you,
my feathered friend.
You may sit and you may sing
but I can fly away, to find my own way.
Feel the sun on my face,
not the reflection
from a gilded cage.