Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Scribbles and mess-ups and an ink covered page,
My brain is the station and my train of thought never stays.

Cluelessness and confusion are the things that choose to fill,
My mind of no rhyme in a head of no will.

So I chase down that train,
The one leaving my brain,
That fast locomotive that's driving me insane.

I find myself aboard a vacated car,
No thought,
just knowing not,
Where you actually are.

Place down the pen, close the book and lay back,
You might be on the train, but you're not on the track.

Head back to the station where you will wait for another,
Hoping then the train that comes will ride as smooth as butter.
Crossed between choices, paths, decisions,
This isn't the life I thought out, not the one I envisioned.
Remember we were five? They asked what we wanted to be, I said an athlete or an astronaut when I should've said free.
The days that remain can be counted on a couple hands,
Time to change my stars, make my art, and discover my Rembrandt.
I no longer wake with the memory,
But I constantly dream throughout the day,
a task too hard to keep the ghost of my victims away.

For those who are loved and also love back,
those are the lovers, the lovers that last.
Trying to expand yet I feel so diminished
Tomorrow's a new start yet I feel so finished.
Why say more, you already get the gist?
I'm onto something new, I don't need this ****.
Hope is a memory
a long lost treasure,    
Faithless & mislead,
satisfied by temporary pleasures.

A mind that's filled by thoughts
that only seem to grow denser,
A heart that seeks love
yet is much too tender.
                                                   - M. A. M.
Good morning thing of beauty for I wrote you before you wake,
Good morning thing of beauty for my breath you surely take,
Good morning thing of beauty you're the reason my heart aches,
Good morning thing of beauty for a smile I wish to make.
Love, Michael

— The End —