Waiting on my own
There is a clock ticking
And I can not tell if it is above me or below me
Where ever it may be it is unnecessarily loud
I can now hear the footsteps of my inquistor
Bounding down the hall
Polished heavy shoes are thumping on the floor
With alarming synchronicity; thud...thud...thud...
I hear the sonority escalate as i enter ataxia
He enters the room and i take the seat inferred
Who are you? He asks in a monotone voice
What is it that you want?
What do you see when you look in the mirror?
Do you understand the connotation?