Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I woke up drowning in the sleek black ocean of unfamiliar pavement. The cries of worry, sorrow and shame bled together as one. I was asked questions in what seemed like strange tongues and responded with foreign answers. And then, suddenly, the road swallowed me whole, like a pill, with no water. I woke up floating in the bright ambience of an unknown struggle. Needles prodded, strangers argued and loved ones watched on. Confusion set in, 'Did I do something wrong?' they told me just to lie still. And then, abruptly, the morphine surged and the night fell away. I woke up relaxed, the I.V. saw to that, as did the OxyContin. Five stitches, one for each separate time my body bounced against the blacktop. A fractured skull, splintered like a rotting stump struck by the dullest hatchet. A broken leg, encompassed in a new kind of boot, for once on the receiving end of support. And now I'm confined to the shrunken world I map out with each small, slow step. It seems I'm to die of boredom rather than in the middle of Round Lake Boulevard.
0
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 2:58 AM UTC
Happy Birthday
I woke up drowning in the sleek black ocean of unfamiliar pavement. The cries of worry, sorrow and shame bled together as one. I was asked questions in what seemed like strange tongues and responded with foreign answers. And then, suddenly, the road swallowed me whole, like a pill, with no water. I woke up floating in the bright ambience of an unknown struggle. Needles prodded, strangers argued and loved ones watched on. Confusion set in, 'Did I do something wrong?' they told me just to lie still. And then, abruptly, the morphine surged and the night fell away. I woke up relaxed, the I.V. saw to that, as did the OxyContin. Five stitches, one for each separate time my body bounced against the blacktop. A fractured skull, splintered like a rotting stump struck by the dullest hatchet. A broken leg, encompassed in a new kind of boot, for once on the receiving end of support. And now I'm confined to the shrunken world I map out with each small, slow step. It seems I'm to die of boredom rather than in the middle of Round Lake Boulevard.
Was riding my bike on August 8th, my 22nd birthday. I got hit by a truck. Happy birthday to me.
StoutOfOrder
Written by
29/M/American
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 2:58 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem