Richie Tang
One go, one come,
at last, no one left.
He’s sitting here waiting,
after an hour and hour,
and he’s still here.
No one’s here to talk,
no one’s here to smile,
sleepiness is convincing,
madness can’t stop refusing.
His fingers tap in a steady rhythm.
His face flushed a bright red,
it was not, ‘cuz of love.
His teeth grinded against each other.
His palms begin to sweat in anticipation.
Come on, hurry!
How long you want to torture him.
Music does not help him at all,
this moment, feel like hell.
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