Treasure Island

Russell Nero

(May 25th,1995)

Memoirs of Me


Again
knocking at my door again
knocking down my door again
impatient and swift
a monster in disguise
lies this depression in determined silence
How it rose from the sand and gravel
of the hour glass
how it rose out of time
like an imaginary speck picked from the air
don't ask me, I'm unaware
I could blame it upon myself
but I have done nothing to spring it upon myself
Maybe it was Love Letter
maybe it was Adryanna
maybe it was Ever After
but she hasn't done anything
barely said a thing since that fateful Wednesday
she has done nothing
she was always the one to build me up
cheer me up
knock some sense into me even when I refused to listen
Maybe, it could be
possibly I have Arkansas Anxiety
possibly I miss my home
possibly I miss Sarah the Sorceress
I could say it so but
the one who loves her most
might say I'm just slowly trying to steal her away
That ship has sailed...sailed so long ago
I just crave to hold her in my arms once more if I can
just so I won't forget
Maybe, maybe
it truly is because I feel useless
sitting up everyday
the same routine
composing the memoirs of me
composing the memoirs of my life
composing the memoirs of my imagination
to be heard, to be known
to see where I can allow this to go
to just follow in the footsteps of my heroes
to say for once while I'm alive
I finally did something right
To say for once while I'm alive
someone knows who I am
at least from my own perspective
I don't want to wait till I'm deceased
I don't want to be deceased
and then be heard
I've put five years and seven months into this so far
I just don't want it all to be for nothing
City and Colour
I've never craved the city
I've always been colour blind
but the music kept me alive
kept me in a visual wonderland
a mix of hues I could never recite
never comprehend
like I can't comprehend why I feel this way
So low, so small, so defeated
Has the sun blackened upon me again
or have I just mistaken my identity again
I've driven myself my entire life
to believe I was extraordinary
to believe I was the only unique
but in the years that passed
I find I'm the one ordinary
While I dream of being a Rockstar
a friend of mine is living it
While I dreamed of being a parkour athlete, free runner
someone is already out there accomplishing it
While I dreamed of world travel
someone else is wishing me luck in my endeavors
While I dreamed dreams of what little kid dreams
a little kid grew up and pickpocketed my dreams from me
So what am I left with...
Typing on a broken laptop screen
staring into space
a blanket upon my head, a makeshift hood for me to bury myself
once again writing another page
in the memoirs of me
because the dreams I believe in
they may never come true
I sit...
I stare...
depressed and unimpressed...
I dreamed of being seated in Seattle
my Seattle apartment
my own City and Colour
a shade of bright lights to lighten up gray skies
but I have no money
but I have no car
I'm just an ordinary kid
I'm just an ordinary boy
I'm just an ordinary dreamer
writing emptily to be extraordinary
writing emptily to be unique
but what am I left with...
Just typing the memoirs of me
on a broken laptop screen

Submitted: Friday, September 13, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 16, 2013

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