Russell Nero

(May 25th,1995)

No Excuses and Well, No Results


Is it that time again
Is it time once again
for me to stand before this jury
and repeat the words I'm sorry
for me to stand before this council
list my excuses for being away for so long
What's the point
I have no more excuses
I'm just searching for my results
Results
well you've seen my last work
a short narrative of ramblings
What was I thinking
that was my problem I wasn't
My work is filled with complex etiquette and simple truth
poured in with divine emotion no one can ever see coming
What I wrote previously
was nothing short of an atrocity
despicable, nothing worthy of me
So what has sparked my recent re-interest
nothing
I've just avoided writing for so long
my ideas worn thin
preoccupied with life and the trials it brings
I thought I may fall short again
and ramble repeatedly about nonsense meaninglessly
or create a masterpiece and forget all the words
like I did with 'Ashley, Baby'
I guess you're all wondering what female has plagued my mind
I could simply point out a name
create a false name to protect her identity
mark her name a fable and spill my guts
as a cure to rid myself of her poison
but there is no one
I've tried to clear my head
before I dive back into the love scene
I've tried to change my surroundings
meet someone new
have someone new to chase after
instead of pining after the same flowers
I've praised and denounced after every end
I'm trying to mature
I'm 18, I guess I owe myself that
but that's always been my reasoning
so I really don't know what I really expect
I am only human
Why do I care so much about what others think of me
If I want them to care, I should just go back to school
but no
I am just me
I am just me
I guess I'm ok with that
even though I go through so many personality
and name changes
to change and negate the negative contents I contain
I want so bad to perfect
to be the best friend I picture myself to be
to be the perfect man any woman would want
to be the perfect son a parent could ask for
to be the inaudible perfect brother
to be the perfect poet
to desperately be someone
I, myself could look in the mirror
and say
'I'm so happy to be me'
but I'm here sitting with my legs crossed
a blanket on my back to shield me from the cold
a thought filled mind with symptoms of a minor concussion
a no one, a loner
and still undiscovered
Oh, what a perfect disappointment I am
When will I ever be more confident of myself
When will I ever be
less harsh upon myself
I guess when I grow a tail or sprout wings
and fly to Seattle
a home I may need to change...
I don't know
I don't know how I do it
I don't know how it happens
I guess I just inadvertently
I just inadvertently set myself up to
well
Lose

Submitted: Sunday, December 15, 2013

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