What the heck am I doing?
My path seemed set in stone, predetermined, unwavering.
Now it hangs carelessly like a stop sign after a tornado strike.
The debris has settled and I wait anxiously for help to arrive.
But no one comes.
I peek out of my shelter and see a world of opportunities waiting for me.
But I stay inside afraid of the unknown.
Waiting.
Waiting.
What the heck am I doing?
This poem is about:
Me