Autopilot

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
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id takes control

Submitted: February 06, 2017

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Content

Submitted: February 06, 2017

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Can’t seem to, get my mind started, as I stare down a blank page,

It’s like when I put the key in the ignition, and the car turns on,

But the engine doesn’t start.

 

Is there a medication for writer’s block?

Cause if there is, I’d pay with cash upfront,

And down the whole bottle of pills, right then and there.

 

I write better when I’m stressed and sad,

And that’s kind of fucked up,

When you think about it.

 

My head was clearer, when I took percocet,

After getting my wisdom teeth ripped out,

So how come I don’t feel any older?

 

It’s not fun when I have to write,

Because it means I’ve been feeling bad,

I don’t know to operate without it.

 

I turn away psychotropic drugs,

Just in case it fucks me up, just a bit too much,

Those black box warnings stare me down.

 

History is doomed to repeat itself,

That’s always, how it goes,

I’m self aware, that I need help,

But I’m operating on autopilot.

 

Sorry that I, stopped texting you,

Just one day randomly, out of the blue,

But you were basically useless to me,

Cause you didn’t give me what I wanted.

 

Ice in my veins, when I told you to go away,

And I had that blank, thousand yard stare, on my face,

But my heart was breaking into pieces,

Underneath all of that negative face.

 

Stay away from, me, don’t put your

Hands on me, like that,

Don’t touch me, cause you know I hate that.

 

Don’t put this, all on me,

Cause we did it together,

We rise up, and we fall back down.

 

Is it selfish, for me to want you all for myself,

Or to go back to the way it was before,

Cause you know we both aren’t the same.

 

I’ll be your, everything if you’ll be mine,

I don’t care how far away you are,

Just be mine and mine forever.

 

You’re hitched, and that pisses me off,

Cause I can be the other man,

If that’s what it’ll take, but

I don’t want to have to share you.

 

Truth be told, you never loved me anyways,

In fact, you probably barely knew my name,

But why’d you go without saying goodbye?

 

You had, everything that I could’ve wanted,

But you never wanted me like that,

And god damn, I still miss looking at you,

Why you’d quit without saying goodbye, too?

 

They told me, that a baptism is in order,

Cause the Devil owns me now,

And they don’t like that.

 

Wash my sins away,

And let me reborn as a new man,

Can you wipe my slate, clean?

 

Look to me, and, find no self control,

I’m empty, on the inside,

I gotta fill that void, with something good.

 

I spend money, like it grows on trees,

Especially when I feel like shit,

Material give me temporary pleasure,

But it’s not enough.

 

My dopamine receptors, are completely fried,

And sense of pleasure, lasts a mere few seconds,

I’ve lost interest, in everything that I love.

 

Baltimore, you’ve let me down this past fall,

Barely being average is unacceptable,

Cause I know you can do better than that.

 

You’re supposed to, be better than I am,

And fill my weekends with some kind of joy,

But I got nothing, but pain.

 

Everything I want is just out of reach,

I can’t rise up, high enough, to get it,

Cause I can barely reach the top shelf, as it is.

 

I missed it by just that much.

 

My forward, progress is always stopped,

In fact I take more steps backwards,

And if I get ahead, I’ll choke it away,

Just like the Falcons did.

 

The engine’s gone cold,

In the brutal Mid-Atlantic winter.


© Copyright 2017 Melancholic Wisdom. All rights reserved.

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