The Powerless Poem by Rosetta -

She sits. She waits, my love, she waited for an hour.
It's not her fault his eyes gazed towards her.

Every single doe stared at her with either love or desire;
He just wanted the world.

And I: what am I again? The seaweed, perhaps, of no use.
A synonym to her, unused. Silenced?

'Can I? May I please? ' His eyes glide to me for reassurance.
'Pick your poison, my love.' He is still dead to me.

The lovers will marry soon, and I still sit here as the second chance.
Will you ever choose me, my love?