Left Behind

Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts? Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts. So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess,
And to stop the muscle that makes us confess. And we are so fragile, And our cracking bones make noise,And we are just,Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys. -- Ingrid Michaelson, "Breakable"



It's time. I'm ready to sleep late, watch "Dawson's Creek" reruns, and bum afternoons at my neighbor's pool. I no longer want to think about reflections, anthologies, portfolios, and demonstrations. Stick a fork in me. I'm damaged goods, returned to sender, on clearance. I've been put out to roost, stuck on a raft bound for glory, and pushing up the daisies. There's no room there for me... I've been behind the curtain and I'm certainly not in Kansas anymore. One of the main things I wanted to do through SI is to get a vehicle for presenting. I wanted to share and participate. Represent. I guess I did my job here, and there is no more openings for me. Push off the mortal coil and sing with the choir, invisible. I'm done. See ya later, alligator. The wind is out of my sails.