I sit here waiting.
Oblige to my work duties, I sit here and wait.
No one will come. This is no place where people would like to come. Even if it meant they will not have to wait long.
This is the rear back of a so called public service.
And I will be set here, until is time to go home.
I’ve been put here because, supposedly, I’m a bad influence to my co-workers. Not only I influence them badly, as I am a bad colleague and for that I deserve to be putted away, in a place where I cannot do no harm. This is how I am seen around here, in this island, in this peace of rear end of a so called public service.
Do they know me at all? Do they know that I’m so much more than all this? Did they bother to know me at all?
It’s 10.52m in the morning.
Still I seat here, waiting.
And I’ll be sitting here for as long as I’m supposed to, because I know that when this bucket is full, I will kick it.
I am dying, a bit at a time. Each day I spend here, I dye a little bit more. My brain has started a long painless shut down, until there’ll be nothing there to save.
There’s a Clash song that says “…should I stay or should I go?”
Consider it my actual soundtrack.