The Autobiographic - Part 1 (First Draft)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is the first draft of a two-part poem I am working on that is a memoir of my life. It is probably the longest poem I have made so far and I would like some criticism on it so I can improve it.

I came into the world and I took my first steps,

This was stage one of my life,

The derailment of my on-going train wreck,

Needy and attention seeking I played the class clown,

Admiration I received from my peers,

From the teachers,

Always frowns,

My school reports always said the same thing throughout my education,

He’s intelligent,

Needs to try harder,

Too much procrastination,

Now unfortunately I thought that at the last minute,

I could pull my grades up,

And shock all the cynics,

I’d head off into the wide world with a chip,

Embedded in my right shoulder,

Now everytime I see someone from the past,

It’s accompanied with the same bloody line,

‘I told ya,’

I always hear that it’s not where you have come from but rather where you are at,

I’m sorry but that makes no sense whatsoever and I think I can describe it better,

Move the fuck on,

Stop thinking of the past,

Put your arse in gear,

Life’s a race,

Don’t finish last,

When I left school I went and got myself a job,

No sense of bumming around all day like some mindless slob,

I worked for a living and it filled me with pride,

Even though I was on minimum wage and my job was shit,

I was getting by,

And this job convinced me to further my education,

Sort my life out,

Pick some dreams and aspirations,

I did a course,

Dropped out,

Maybe computing wasn’t for me,

A few courses later I settled on teaching and humanities,

Although my grades were good and proved I had studied well,

My life outside of education was slowly going to hell,

I went out most nights,

In the mornings I could never remember where I had been,

I woke up in the strangest places,

My life was essentially one long lucid dream,

Full of different girls,

Different booze,

Different drugs,

I woke up on different sofas,

In random peoples beds,

I occasionally ended up in cuffs,

Essentially my life went on like this for several years,

Any advice people gave me,

Normally fell on deaf ears,

In the eye of my mind,

All was going well,

I had little dramas,

But the pain I could always quell,

My own type of painkiller,

I didn’t need a prescription to feed my addiction,

Just a couple of numbers in my phone,

And the inability to differentiate,

Between what is fact and what is fiction,

I’m stuck in a haze of invincibility,

You feel like that at 21,

I’ve got a good group of friends,

My degrees about halfway done,

But I’m living with reservations,

On the surface my demons I was facing,

I hit rock bottom,

Coming down with a harsh order of reality,

A side dish of denial,

And a dessert of rationality,

And as my self-induced psychosis took hold of me,

The realisation of what my life had become seemed to be all too clear,

I could never take back those wasted years,

I can never atone for all the bad things I have done,

I could never be what I wanted to be,

I’ll never be the perfect son,

Time is a healer they say,

And gradually…over time,

My mind became clearer and everything seemed fine,

I kicked my habits,

Gained some clarity,

And made it a mission to sort my life out by the age of 23.

Submitted: April 17, 2012

© Copyright 2022 JamesSemlow. All rights reserved.

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