In the Waiting Room
You realize that you might lose your mother
None of your fake problems prepared you for this
You realize you can’t do anything without her
What’s it called when you’re an adult who still feels like a kid?
In the waiting room you’re biting on your fingers
Trying to make a mental list of everything you regret
And your inkwell’s filled with spit and rancor
So busy looking at yourself that you never learned how to swim
You realize that you might lose your mother
None of your fake problems prepared you for this