Waiting

Running across something
Way Interesting.
Killing time ahead,
followed by the gust of inquisition,
As the acclamation is so close
Dripping sweat,
Intense stare,
to the very final minutes.

Booming statements been made,
applause can be heard
from miles away,
An island full of goons,
ready to be herded to anywhere.
Set up the camera,
Positioned the boom mics,
Flashes of lenses
hide away
the terrible fact.

Hungry from this stress,
Man and woman alike,
taking shelters at a
big tree.
Nothing been anticipated,
Nothing being acclaimed,
Nothing is just nothing.
If its takes a thousand years,
they'll keep on waiting.