FicWad

You,
I.
Here we sit, awaiting fate.
You've found your's,
yet choose to wait for mine,
just to see what it is.
Your's is sweet,
a girl that likes you.
Mine looks grim,
a fate without definiton,
like the swirling mass of an impending
storm.
Your fate comes,
mine still waits.
You forget your promises and run off,
away from me.
I just sit and wait,
wait for anything to come along.
Something does come,
on the horizon.
It's the swirling mass of an impending
storm.