In Line Waiting For...


The balding man stood behind the girl with the hair,
and he wished for just an ounce of her flair.
But he looked at his hands and he thought to himself:
"I'm so ordinary, it's no fair."

The girl with the hair was behind the man in a suit
and her eyes couldn't help but take in his "cute."
But she looked at his face and she thought to herself:
"If I tried, he'd give me the boot."

The man in the suit was in front of the line,
and he felt all the eyes admiring his shine.
But he paid for his item and he thought to himself:
"I wish I could be the last one in line."

We're all in a line, and we're all behind someone,
and that someone is also someone behind.
No one is first and no one has lasted
and no one has had the courage to ask it.

But if we were honest and said to the others:
"I'm done living inside of this casket."

This poem is about: 
Our world


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