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  • schroederlilly782

Sometimes when I drive my car

Sometimes when I drive my car I feel closer to you,

I wonder if you would’ve missed me too,

I imagine that you are sitting next to me,

That day, time locked my heart and left with the key.

 

Sometimes I drive with music on,

Why and during all this time was I so wrong,

When inside I knew it all along,

You probably don’t know this,

but you always were my favorite song.

 

There are moments where I don’t listen to anything and it’s all so quiet,

I tell myself I am, but I don’t feel alright,

I drive and drive through the darkness of the night,

I see all kind of lights,

While Inside I’m having all sorts of fights.

 

But I force myself to focus on the street,

When all I want is to leave,

Because I don’t want to go to sleep,

As it will then become another day,

Where our last moments will again be further away.

 

Sometimes on the highway I drive so fast,

Wondering how long my life will last,

Competing with your speed limit from that night,

Only in my dream can we reunite.

 

The speed goes up - an easy 100, an easy 180, almost 200 and then another 20.

My car beeps and gives me a sign,

A sign that I am crossing the line,

And I wonder why you had to cross it,

But your dumb friend and you both lost it.

 

You cannot defeat time,

It usually ends up with a crime,

Because no matter what,

Time will be responsible for a person’s last cut.

 

My hands both on the steering wheel,

I ask myself, is this how it should feel?

Is this how you felt?

You thought it’s going to be okay because both of you were wearing your seat belt?

 

My fingers are numb because so tight and with a rage of anger, I am grabbing the wheel,

I beg the lord not to feel,

I’m alone in my car and scream out my soul,

I can’t get my head wrapped around it and I continue to find myself in this hole.

 

I scream it all out, while I drive so fast,

I wish that you had just asked,

Asked me like I should’ve done too,

But life brutally continues and goes on while I don’t have a clue.

 

I continue, I scream, I burn away my lungs,

I imagine how I’m pointing at my face with not one but multiple guns,

I hit the steering wheel so hard so I can feel something else rather than the usual,

Perhaps, I am just too delusional.

 

I cry but I force myself not to lose control,

I try and put myself into another role,

A role of a mother, a father, or a sister,

I scream and then I whisper,

I whisper to you,

I ask you to wake me up and to tell me, none of this is true.


 

 

 

 

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