Well, there's the children issue
She's my primary care
There's the transport thing
How the hell to get there?
There's the nerves of course
I'm a bag full of those
There's the 'who wants to see me?'
Real modesty, no pose
There's the 'why should I have to?'
The 'why can't this be read?'
The 'why is it the hard stuff
That gets the soft bed?'
There's the 'been there and done that'
In my years spinning tunes
Done the bars and the boozing
All that breaking of rules
There's the memory problem
The lack of key cells
And the love of the look
Of the words as themselves
And finally too
There's my hiding just here
My lists of excuses
All written by fear
That is deep and is rooted
And sewn in my soul
It's rarely constructive
A constant own goal
It keeps me in place
And it won't let me be
Oh, I'm not sure the stage
Is the best place for me
© Rachel Fox 2006
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