A life our own

Brett · Post by **Brett** » Tue Feb 19, 2002 2:59 am

I wonder if I can be the man she wants me to be. I feel trapped in a life that is not my own. Who am I? I don't have a fucking clue. There was a time when i was confident in my self. A time when I believed immortal. Those days have left me. I am alone and weary. My wife is a wonderful woman. A woman full of hope and substance. I, on the other hand, am a shallow selfish bastard. I want to be something more, something beautiful. I see the stars and see how small we are. I look at others and see happiness that I can never feel. Help. I wish I was different, a comet. You see the shooting star burst through the dark blue morning. I see my life sprinting to a finish that I can't imagine. Help.

<sarah> · Post by **<sarah>** » Tue Feb 19, 2002 4:11 am

Hey Brett,
I don't know what your post is about. It makes me feel sad.
Here is something that makes me feel not sad

i'm saying it's my house
and i'll make fudge and call
it love and touch my lips
to the chocolate warmth
and smile at old men and call
that revolution cause what's real
is really real
and i still like men in tight
pants cause everybody has some
thing to give and more
important needs something to take

and this is my house and you make me
happy
so this is your poem.
-- Nikki Giovanni

Maybe, send it to your wife, but edit it because she might get scared if you smile at old men and like young ones in tight pants.

Brett · Post by **Brett** » Wed Feb 20, 2002 8:54 am

That's nice. Thanks. You never know, she might like the part about the boys in tight pants.