Sitting At The Bench. Poem by Letter From My Mother's Womb

My child,
This is the letter from your mom
crafted together with hands of love.

Sometimes life
is like a man who is sitting to the bench,
Waiting in the longest queue,
Hoping to get help and
waiting for the name to be called
from that window,
But tempers gets high
with frustrations
that overheat
your face with sweat,
For you can't stand the wait,
And then you'll get to despair,
For it gets hopeless
like a man who waited for
a train for so long.

Moments do look like a dream,
For you can't feel it's real cream,
You just imagine only the negative
by that moment
an opportunity enters the door
like the flood,
Everything gets bad like the spread of the blood.

As water reflects the face,
So one's life reflects the heart,
Waiting to the bench for hours, and hours,
Stood wiggling on a hospital bench,
Watching with teary eyes,
Hoping that you'll get assistance,
Here comes a long waiting period
of despair,
As doctors
come out to that door,
The feeling increases tempers
to be high
as the heart beats so fast,
Then it hit to my realisation,
That we are not free from
life trials along with oppression,
Sometimes the wait gets unhealthy
with no freedom,
It's hard to escape from the prison
of perseverance,
But still captivity gets the whole
credits.

Every minute it gets dark
and the light is never turned off
to a man who's waiting for a train
at night,
For hours and hours, that's how life
it is,
Waiting in the sit bench for so
long it's like self-murder,
For you can't bear the experience,
With lowered eyes
and legs so weak, feeling like you
losing the fight,
While looking at other people
get help,
Same people who came after you,
Everything to them
it's as if life is a miracle,
but to you is as if life is ain't fair,
Feeling like you don't deserve
to live,
Life is a box of chocolates to a diabetic.

My child, never run out
from fight,
Face the music, never miss
every tune,
Dance with those who dances
with you,
Don't force to change every
situation you come across,
For some situations are meant
to build you, to sharpen you
as an iron.
Never lose hope
and think of taking your life,
Ignore putting your life to risk,
Never drink the whole bottle
of whisk,
and think that you'll be alright,
Go with the flow,
remember perseverance is the
mother of success.

Sitting at the waiting bench
waiting for a doctor to call my name.
Having to bear all the smell
of chemicals in the entire building.

Hours keep depleting
and the pain gets worse,
Nurses coming out
and in shutting their doors,
Wishing that they could call
my name.

Doctors going up
and down with files unto their hands,
Nurses coming out like a rabbit
that goes to it's hole
as paramedics gets inside
with the stretcher.

I am slowly losing the consciousness
for I can't bear the wait
and the pain,
I can't even move my legs
because of cramps
I've waited for to long,
What would've happened
if I was about to die,
For I couldn't bear the wait and the pain eating my inner room alive.

Life is like going to a boxing ring, without being given the boxing gloves to fight with.


Author: L Lyricist