Who’ll tell the story of my life?
Who’ll bring it to some harmony?
Weaving the senseless tangled threads
Into a pattern all can see?
Born in a place invisible
Like every boy, some mother’s prince:
Sent off the rails by adolescence
Hasn’t recovered since
Who’ll put in words what I can’t say?
Who’ll make it all seem relevant?
Find celebration in a party
That’s never had a celebrant?
Sick and alone with hopes in ashes
Bottle of pills to ease the pain;
Finding a path to wet redemption
Clambering through the rain
Horatio Alger’s rags to riches?
Will that, one day, be my history?
Or, a life written by Thomas Hardy?
I don’t know now
We’ll just wait