The Question Poem by Flying Lemming

The Question

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I sit and wait, the pressure great
The tension in the air
And now I find, that in my mind
I’m turning to despair
The time ticks by, I wonder why
I let myself get here
Sweat on my brow, I’m trembling now
As the question gets near
What I can’t see, is why ask me
I know I’ll get it wrong
I want to leave, it’s hard to breathe
And now it wont be long
My heart beats fast, how will I last
My face is turning pink
She opens the door, in dress number four
“Well, what do you think? ”

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