Treasure Island

Russell Nero

(May 25th,1995)

March Nightmare


Eyes of an angel, those wondrous eyes of compassion
a fairytale told in story books, fiction
How did it materialize into reality..magic
How can I possibly describe my affection...but I'd rather not
I'm only a fool, a stupid fool...
Here I am, staring so lost up at the ceiling
a paper heart
decorated and filled with proud permanent declarations of love
How it mocks me so makes me sick
yet I can't turn away from its siren song
Yes, I can admit, I wish to be anything but lonely without you
I want to be with you, yes I really do
but what I want merely just fades and slips away
I guess it's just eating me alive
to know the more I push to see, to be
the more I let myself believe
there could possibly ever be a 'you and me'
the more I realize I don't measure up
I'm only a part of a plan
plan C, C team, number 3
the last call; the first to fight and fall
I should've saw this coming in my crystal ball
but ignorance became lovely bliss
for I burned down all my red flags
Optimistically I guess I just believed
there was finally enough to make it...just
A triangle, she forged it with her love
In love, it wasn't a secret
I just chose to ignore it
She had no fatal attraction to the skin I'm in
yet she wove her web, her silky thread around me
a hypnotic cocoon
Oh I was aware...still...
I fell for her opinionated, calculating mind
I fell for the way she pushed my creativity to the surface
I fell for her green eyes
hazel, the ones I've seen in my dreams
the ones I've described in the chronicles of my perfect girl
My own eyes commanded desire
while my mind desired to hold her
intertwined in my comforting arms
My heart craved to kiss her lips one more time
but in it's place were just excuses of 'maybe next time'
My heart craved to be accepted
craved a label it may never obtain
but all I hear is my departure date makes it difficult
for my claim to even be relevant
A February disaster
grew legs and skipped into a March Nightmare
I can't really say I'm surprised
but I thought things would be different
though I had no idea what I was getting myself into
She has someone while I remain a hooded figure in the back of the class
She has everything while I only have a pencil and pad to my name
March Nightmare...
I've become a headache so pathetic, a nine year old again
unaware of how to deal with this kind of situation
this sense of confusion
the craving of biting into forbidden fruit
combined with the haunting memory
of a melody I refuse to sing four Marches since...
March Nightmare...
All in all I'm the wreck and I don't know what else to do
except listen to Marianas Trench and look for clues
say I want her in my head, mutely, voicelessly
close my eyes, shield my ears
avoid seeing her walk away, disgust plain upon her face
avoid the taunting laughter ringing in my ears...
Pathetic...pathetic..pathetic..
the only thing more fragile than my confidence...

Submitted: Thursday, August 15, 2013
Edited: Friday, August 16, 2013

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