Will I be left here?
My heart beats with fear,
my nerves and sweat smear.
Does he look at me,
should I look to see?
No, then hope might fade.
I want plans I made
to stay as dreams bade.
This process is rude,
hurts one’s attitude,
shows no latitude …
Has he eyed me yet?
Man, my palms are wet.
Wish I were all set.
Please let...
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