A Word for Coward

I had time and I waited. I had curiosity and sheer passion and let them be canceled out by hesitation. I watched as others came and went, tempers soared and love proclaimed. I had time to bide my time, time to think of it as it passed, time to count the seconds in between the seconds. I am a perfectionist. It is another word for coward.

So I packed up my bag, packed it full of shirts and scarves and boots and things I'd need, and I left. Left it all behind, as they say. Roads reached out in all directions, north and south and east and west and all the directions in between. There was sky above, earth underneath, there were endless amounts of other people. But when you leave, and leave suddenly, you have time. Endless amounts of it. And so I waited.

I find most places are the same. I find people eerily similar. I find that good stays good and bad gets worse. I've decided there is very little I can do. There is life and excitement in me, there are endless possibilities. Some men build bridges or write tomes on love. There are men who are conquerers, lovers, lords. I have a bag of things, which I think I might well hock to buy a timepiece with a golden chain so I may smile slightly as its beauty as the seconds tick away.