AnaisWrites

I’m waiting out
on a worn-out
dark bench.

white robes
rush past—
hands full of pills,
hopes,
and chemical dreams
they swear might save us.

my heart skips.
then skips again.
each beat
lands like defeat.

i’m waiting.
for my turn,
for my name,
for a door to open
that doesn’t lead
to the same
white walls
and wired lies.

they say this one’s different.
a K dream.
a soft unraveling.
a maybe.

maybe this will finally
give me, at least—
one pause.
one breath
that isn’t bruised.
one second
of peace
without a price tag.

but maybe that’s too much.
maybe this
will be the break.

or maybe—
just another
beautifully-wrapped
fairy tale.
-Anais