i watch wheel of fortune
like the old, grey-haired lady
i am sure i will be someday
it gets late at nine
and i wonder why i have chosen this
what an option
to be burnt-out by twenty-two
facing down twenty-three
like some kind of battle
not yet losti could be somewhere else right now
doing something more exciting
but it doesn't excite me much
i have no children
nothing to tie me down
nothing to tie me here
i could be living some other life
instead of smearing oil of olay on my face
wearing a wrist brace
and stewing over the bills
somehow i find solace
in remembering the way it was
or, at least, what i do remember
sometimes he says i dwell on the past
i wonder if i'm just burying it
too slowly
one rotted limb at a time
i cannot find it in my soul
to cast aside
the girl that lost herself
i am still crawling out
from the battlefield
of my former existence
i am still finding enough bandages
to cover the wounds