Sometimes I find waiting for a thing to happen is worse than the thing that actually happens.
Waiting for the Axe to Drop
It hovers above me
So far it could be a stream from a plane
But I know what it is
A silver blade, waiting, biding its time
It hangs like an omen, like a cliche
As I walk, it follows me, everywhere
You open your mouth and the blade quivers
It prepares to drop, a free fall, slicing through the open air
But you hesitate and keep our secret a bit longer
And so it waits
And so I wait
Eventually I know you must confess
The axe will drop
Blunt but piercing, the truth will cut through me
It will take all the strength my heart has left to stop the blade
Offering up arteries and vessels and chambers
Catching it just before it kills me completely
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