Typed Music


I suppose these are just little pieces of me, wrapped up in words.

The forgotten melodies of my mind.


24. Waiting room

We’re sat in a waiting room
On the wall there is a sign which reads:
T.E.E.N.A.G.E. Y.E.A.R.S
We remember how we got here although we can’t remember when.
We got sick of the colours and idealism
Of the place called C.H.I.L.D.H.O.O.D
And convinced ourselves
That leaving it would bring us to something better.
But it didn’t.

We’re sat in a waiting room,
Shouting at the walls.
The walls aren’t painted here
They’re grey and cracked
With barbed wire taught across
But above them, too far away to see
Are figures that laugh at us;
Figures that were permitted to pass through
The door marked A.D.U.L.T.H.O.O.D.

We’re sat in a waiting room,
Not knowing what’s beyond – It’s the future.
Just told to keep on waiting
Through this ‘worthless’, ‘awkward’ stage,
Told that we’ll be allowed to be people one day
Not just a sub-human constellation.

We’re sat in a waiting room
Trying to accumulate years
From cigarette stubs and half-emptied bottles
While the audience leers, yet berates us,
And tells us that our purpose is to wait.

One day we’ll be the audience
But perhaps we’ll remember
How it was to be just watched.



I plan to remember.

But maybe we all do.

"But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young..." Albus Dumbledore

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