The Wait

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A mixture of feelings an undergraduate is feeling as he applies for a job.

Submitted: September 20, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 08, 2018



Lids rolled back, my eyes milky like my morning coffee.

Seat max tilt, let my thoughts skate around the lobby.

Burn in my chest, almost ignites the ambition I embody.

In this world of competition, everybody clones the copy.

But, I'm original and my origins can never knock me see.

I put my seeds in the dirt, and it never sprouts.

Paid in pain for my work, opposite light I never shadowed doubt.

Brilliance in my resilence all roots from my diligence.

Always argue in my head I guess this state is called ambivalence.

Still in the lobby and the coffee no longer reflects my mug.

Severed the worry, as I know the decline can't hold you up,

This isn't the breakfast, that pours the ache straight to my gut.

I don't want to be stuck. Digested too much critical feedback.

I don't want to be stuffed. I don't care, I'll remain drunk of my ideas.

Overdosed, passing out, almost see my dreams form clear.

I snap back, check the time, I think I'm going next.

Tighten my tie, not too tight, resist the choke effect.

As I stand up... I black out...

15 minutes have passed and I'm shaking hands in a room.

Smiles around the board affecting me, I'm smiling too.

Hold trust in your craft and the right things will come to you.

So now when I sit max tilt, with coffee aroma in the air.

I'm smiling, in the office because I finally made it here.

© Copyright 2019 Jemale Eze. All rights reserved.

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