I

I don't know what to do or say
I don't know why I'm feeling this way
I don't know if I'm a man
I don't know who the fu¢k I am.
I could have something clever to say
I could get myself outta the way
I could grow up and assemble a career
I could curl up and die right here.
I haven't got anything to say
I haven't got a smooth, polished way
I haven't got self-respect or esteem
I haven't got anyone else on my team.
I should come up with something to say
I should leave and run away
I should make a decision to decide about life
I should drop the gun and pick up the knife.

Why have I done this?
I know not
Why am I here?
Because it's my lot.

Phil Oslund Summer 1994