There once was a time,
When I was desired despite myself.
I was flawed, ugly, weak,
But wanted, sought after, loved.
I was loose with my libido,
Free with my words,
Flippant with my attitude.
I gave little and took a lot,
It was callous and cold,
Calculated and specific.
I was a romeo without the romance,
A jigalo without the salary,
A Don Juan named Shaun.
I justified my wrong doings with reason after flawed reason,
Banking on my honesty as a cash out of valuable intentions.
I put my stock in the wrong company,
My debts have come to collection,
I'm emotionally bankrupt and no one wants to lend me a dime.
My salary is low,
My history bad,
I've got a credit score of 50,
Give or take 50.
I can't say I'm working on it,
Or working hard at all,
I've been dodging my creditors calls,
Cause I have no story to tell them,
That might deal me down to only half of what I owe.
My friends and family have seen my track record,
And could guarantee themselves better payoffs at the track,
Investing in me is investing in the long term payoff of last years crops;
Fruitless.
Maybe the problem is my portfolio,
And how I never look at it.
I haven't seen an advisor in years,
Not that I'd have listened,
Even if I had.
My CPA fired me,
My attorney needs a retainer the size of the world bank,
And the bank calls me,
Not to make a sale,
But to ask me when I might finally set sail and find a new bank.
Just to be clear,
This is a metaphor,
My finances are totally in order.
I'm just poor in the emotional department.
Not that I wouldn't give if I had some to share.
I've just never been good at saving, investing, or planning for the future.
Its not like I didn't learn the right way growing up,
Or,
At least,
A way while growing up.
My parents are open, empathetic, caring.
They share, communicate, and facilitate a loving home with happy people.
I wanted what they had when I was young,
I just didn't want them to know I wanted it.
Years went by and my eye wandered,
Down the road to different desires,
And an askew way of financing that trip.
Independence for me.
Lone Wolf.
Man of Mystery.
Public Hermit.
Not to suggest I don't have funds available to me.
Specifically I want to say I'm not a sociopath incapable of emotional understanding,
Of emotional growth,
Emotional awareness.
I'm not devoid of emotion,
Not unable to feel, to love, to express,
Those just aren't valuable to me.
The things that bring me emotional pain or pleasure are few and far between.
So few and so far that they are easy to avoid,
Taking different roads to different plans of,
This specific type of emotional financial success.
Its not that I can't let myself be loved,
I just don't value my own stock the way I used to,
And spend my time,
Nowadays,
Advising people to buy elsewhere,
Shares in Shaun are at an all time low.
Misrepresenting myself to the board of me,
And all prospective parties,
To keep things simple and to avoid unwanted scrutiny,
No need for "auditors of love" to check our books,
Our ledger is bad,
We admit it.
I admit it.
Only problem is if I keep down-selling my value to me,
I'll stop investing in myself.
No worse way to make a downward spiral spin,
Then to give oneself a golden parachute,
Only to find its an I.O.U. from a me who thought,
"Things will change next year,"
"Promise"
When I was desired despite myself.
I was flawed, ugly, weak,
But wanted, sought after, loved.
I was loose with my libido,
Free with my words,
Flippant with my attitude.
I gave little and took a lot,
It was callous and cold,
Calculated and specific.
I was a romeo without the romance,
A jigalo without the salary,
A Don Juan named Shaun.
I justified my wrong doings with reason after flawed reason,
Banking on my honesty as a cash out of valuable intentions.
I put my stock in the wrong company,
My debts have come to collection,
I'm emotionally bankrupt and no one wants to lend me a dime.
My salary is low,
My history bad,
I've got a credit score of 50,
Give or take 50.
I can't say I'm working on it,
Or working hard at all,
I've been dodging my creditors calls,
Cause I have no story to tell them,
That might deal me down to only half of what I owe.
My friends and family have seen my track record,
And could guarantee themselves better payoffs at the track,
Investing in me is investing in the long term payoff of last years crops;
Fruitless.
Maybe the problem is my portfolio,
And how I never look at it.
I haven't seen an advisor in years,
Not that I'd have listened,
Even if I had.
My CPA fired me,
My attorney needs a retainer the size of the world bank,
And the bank calls me,
Not to make a sale,
But to ask me when I might finally set sail and find a new bank.
Just to be clear,
This is a metaphor,
My finances are totally in order.
I'm just poor in the emotional department.
Not that I wouldn't give if I had some to share.
I've just never been good at saving, investing, or planning for the future.
Its not like I didn't learn the right way growing up,
Or,
At least,
A way while growing up.
My parents are open, empathetic, caring.
They share, communicate, and facilitate a loving home with happy people.
I wanted what they had when I was young,
I just didn't want them to know I wanted it.
Years went by and my eye wandered,
Down the road to different desires,
And an askew way of financing that trip.
Independence for me.
Lone Wolf.
Man of Mystery.
Public Hermit.
Not to suggest I don't have funds available to me.
Specifically I want to say I'm not a sociopath incapable of emotional understanding,
Of emotional growth,
Emotional awareness.
I'm not devoid of emotion,
Not unable to feel, to love, to express,
Those just aren't valuable to me.
The things that bring me emotional pain or pleasure are few and far between.
So few and so far that they are easy to avoid,
Taking different roads to different plans of,
This specific type of emotional financial success.
Its not that I can't let myself be loved,
I just don't value my own stock the way I used to,
And spend my time,
Nowadays,
Advising people to buy elsewhere,
Shares in Shaun are at an all time low.
Misrepresenting myself to the board of me,
And all prospective parties,
To keep things simple and to avoid unwanted scrutiny,
No need for "auditors of love" to check our books,
Our ledger is bad,
We admit it.
I admit it.
Only problem is if I keep down-selling my value to me,
I'll stop investing in myself.
No worse way to make a downward spiral spin,
Then to give oneself a golden parachute,
Only to find its an I.O.U. from a me who thought,
"Things will change next year,"
"Promise"
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