On what was supposed to be the final day,
I heard your words that secretly told me
That the war between us isn’t over.
And I will wait forever if I have to,
Waiting just to tell you off,
Or maybe just to blow you off,
But I will be waiting,
Waiting for the day.
On what was supposed to be a simple summer day,
I sat on my bed with a paper and pencil,
Writing down the words that I would say
In retaliation someday,
As I was waiting for the day.
I rehearsed in the mirror, and for a minute,
I saw your face instead of mine.
But I told myself, if we’re so alike,
How could you have been so unkind?
So I threw away the paper,
And broke the pencil in half.
This is exactly what you wanted.
But I won’t let you have it.
So I will just be waiting,
Waiting for the day.
On what is supposed to be the first day,
I will be finishing up old business,
And as simple as it is,
All I will do is ignore you,
And as simple as it seems,
It won’t be that easy.
But I have prepared my defenses,
I will subtly end the war that day,
So I am eagerly waiting,
Waiting for the day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem