I feel drained, empty on gas.
There is no more adrenaline in me
To push the pedal forward,
To feel the surge of energy in my veins
As my speed rises up, up the odometer.
I am coasting,
Stuck at thirty-five miles per hour,
Flattening my foot down
In an attempt to feel a rush,
Yet remaining the same as before
At thirty-five miles per hour.
Should I turn to the nearest guardrail?
Stop completely and give up?
I am afraid they will revive me,
And I will continue on
At thirty-five miles per hour.
Now stuck knowing,
That there is nothing I can do
To change my course.
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
I feel drained, empty on gas.
There is no more adrenaline in me
To push the pedal forward,
To feel the surge of energy in my veins
As my speed rises up, up the odometer.
I am coasting,
Stuck at thirty-five miles per hour,
Flattening my foot down
In an attempt to feel a rush,
Yet remaining the same as before
At thirty-five miles per hour.
Should I turn to the nearest guardrail?
Stop completely and give up?
I am afraid they will revive me,
And I will continue on
At thirty-five miles per hour.
Now stuck knowing,
That there is nothing I can do
To change my course.
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