I am a string of excuses tied together by indolence.
Tugging at the appropriate ones at the nauseatingly right moments.
Clubbing all the tragedies and self proclaimed calamities into a knot for inspection at a later date, which never comes.
Headroom cluttered with pieces of problems I wonít solve.
I canít not deny my inability to achieve failure.
An excuse for a truthful statement.
An excuse for life.