Loveable Loser

I pack up my troubles in the old kit bag, turn a blind eye and I forgive, but I can never forget. I will never forget. I don't want to, I am given talks and looks and it is becoming worn. It is now my judgement, the cut, I move on, I leave them and I let the it go through behind me. I cannot stand it, and I hope they know why. They may not realise it, and I may not be clear about it, but they are gone already. I don't want to go back to that time. What is there for me? Those that go back beyond this point there is nothing but woe and heartbreak.

Can something be made of this, am I learning, am I growing. Maybe, but then again, probably not. Does it look like it to the outside, I don't know. The face I have built is still there in my bag of tricks, it is a bit cracked and I can only keep it on for shorter and shorter times. There is some showing of wear but I am able to do the required maintenance. For how long, I am not sure but I think I will be able to long enough. Do enough to get there.

I devolve but I don't divulge, nothing can stop that now. I have been constricted, like a big snake coiling and coiling till lungs are crushed, till no breath is left. I am covered, my mouth and face are being swallowed by it. I dream of a time with none of this happening, it is not a morning's story I want to wake up from. Even the ritual of that is getting old. No more tricking myself, no more playing the dunce.

I will go until there is nothing left of me but that loveable loser.