I wish I was older and had dementia,
Or maybe cancer - it's all the hype nowadays.
Even better, a mental disorder with a fancy name,
Or a dead wife, an abusive father, something.
I need an excuse for feeling the way I do.
Something serious, presentable,
insidious, lamentable.
I have all my limbs, and I'm not particularly hideous to look at.
I'm no athlete, but I'm never the last one to cross the line.
Not bright nor that dull, neither too light nor too heavy.
If I do sing a song, people won't gather around, they won't disperse, they'll hardly notice.
My paintings would never catch their eyes, my poems will never make an impact.
I've got no good stories to tell- I'm not entirely without stories either.
I'm just your average joe- and I'm desperate for an excuse for feeling the way I do.
