World moves slow
A waiting room drunk in woe
Dark eyes with light hair
With a fundamental stare
These cold chairs ain’t for comfort
A metal reminder of your discomfort
Guarded by a doorway
Palpitations in their airway
And homeless souls seeking under
In the waiting room of wonder
World moves slow
Emergencies come to show
These people don’t know me
And i don’t know them
Now we shan’t dare lock in stare
At the dawn comes that warm feeling
Welcomed by a doctor
To feel redeeming
Shaken bodies seeking shelter
In this waiting room of swelter
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Author:
marissa (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 18th, 2026 21:32
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
Hate waiting rooms, waste of time. Well written
Marissa, this really hit me. You capture the fear, exhaustion, and helplessness of being trapped between crisis and answers. Powerful poem, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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