I spent my fourteenth birthday at Nauset alone in the waves;
even back then I tried swimming away.
I spent my nineteenth birthday in Brewster alone in my bed;
that old broken record still plays in my head.
On my twenty third birthday I planned my own suicide;
if only you knew how in my nightmares I died.
On my twenty fifth birthday I’ve been saying for years,
on this day I’ll die young with and without my fears.
Bittersweet; today the day has finally come,
my mind is frozen, still my feet march on with the drum.
But fuck it, let me break my own torn premonition,
that I’m bound to die young by some unborn intuition.
Instead I’ll treat my fate with faith, consult the Lord’s definition;
to live to see the morning light is my new ongoing mission.
I am a victim, but not in the ways that you might think,
I don’t blame a single person, just my mind on its brink.
Externally, my life has been easy as can possibly be,
the world at large has kept its watch over me.
When a tree falls all alone out in the forest it cries,
don’t judge my novels by their covers, don’t judge my mindset by my eyes.
Often times, unjustified are ways that I feel,
but either way you cannot say that pain isn’t real.
For the first time in my life I’ll try to change my own fate,
when I wake up on the morrow free from sorrow, feeling great.
That will be the day my life has really begun,
I’ll cut myself down, free now from this web that I have spun.
I’m a victim of my own mind, not in any other way.
Oh, poor Aaron, thanks for sharing, no one cares I hate to say.
And this is true, from me to you, I hate to hear it all the same,
so raise a glass to my retirement, I am tired of the game.
Cheers, to the next approaching twenty-five long years,
parting ways with fear no longer overcome by tears.
I think I’ve said my peace, I’m off now on my merry way,
things are changing as I live again to see another day.