Those automobiles,
Speeding automatically,
Dumbfounded,
By the unseen aeroplanes.
And your bond,
Will kill me.
Feeling the thrill of the wind,
I've got to give in.
Before my automatic step.
Takes me in front of a truck.
I'm clinging to the cold,
Metallic clang.
Searching for memories,
In my brain.
I look down,
Cross my arms,
You don't know-
Me anymore.
I cut you out,
When I should've,
Long ago.
I'll fight even though,
It's something I don't know yet.
I'll sing amongst the familiar swingset.
Into the roaring,
But I won't let you hear.
Feeling the thrill,
Of the wind.
I've got to give in,
Before my automatic step.
Takes me in front of a truck.
And I've let the blood flow,
For too long-
I'm woozy,
And now I'm sucking out,
The venom.
That you fed me-
And I,
Didn't. Even. Notice.
Such an armchair-
With a trenchcoat,
Draped around.
Faded out.
Holes that fill,
With so much doubt.
It's over,
And today-
I've the heart to say,
I was on autopilot,
And I've got to take control.
Automatic's,
Deadly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have the heart to say, good poem, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.