Waiting and Wanting

Please Note: The events in this poem are not to be reviewed as a release or a way out. They are to be viewed as an ultimate act of self-expression.

Pink and naked;
a baby is born.
A blank canvas,
a new-born soul.
He is wanting and waiting,
yearning simply
to live life.

Thirteen years later
his parents have borne
a teenage boy
with a scornful face.
He's wanting and waiting,
yearning simply
to express himself.

On one fate-filled night,
two years later,
still unable to express himself,
he knew what he had to do,
wanting and waiting
yearning simply
for his chance.

He grabbed a razor blade from his father's drawer
sat down and got to work.
He pressed the blade firmly against his skin
and began to cut.
The pain seared through his arm like a trail of liquid fire,
he continued through the pain
wanting and waiting,
yearning simply
for the pain to subside.

He set down the blade and smiled,
he was finished.
He looked down and again smiled.
He'd finally been able
to express his deepest desire.
He'd been wanting and waiting,
yearning simply
to express himself.

He looked down at his bloodied arm,
and smiled as he read aloud,
the word which he had there deeply inscribed.
Wanting and waiting,
yearning simply
to shout these word from the bottom of his soul.

Looking down,
at his bloodied arm,
he saw the word "SELF-EXPRESSION."
All his life he had been
wanting and waiting,
yearning simply
to be himself.