Waiting, Wanting. Poem by Celia Acosta

I sit here waiting.
Waiting for a friend.
Waiting to be accepted into this world.
Waiting for a love to sweep me off my feet.
Waiting for the end of my day.
I sit here waiting for no one particular.
Waiting for the perfect moment,
the one in which I will take my life by the hand.
I sit here waiting to be understood,
in a world where I am not welcomed.
I sit here lonely, wanting to cry.
Wanting to be beautiful and skinny.
Wanting a friend.
Wanting, waiting..