My Way Out

A Poem by Not here

Please call my only doctor

and somebody call the nurse.

Message my taxi driver

and his ever loyal hearse.

Please call my momma.

And maybe call my dad.

Tell them that I love them;

convince them that I'm not bad.

'Cause I'm on my way out.

It took a while to see,

see,

I'm been on my own.

Free.

Livin' life like my

king.

Not worried about a

thing.

Now you think I'm fine,

aye?

Livin' my life my

way.

Only problem is

would rather give up and

die.

Now without a single

doubt

I'm moving on my way

out.

Please call my only doctor

and somebody call the nurse.

Message my taxi driver

and his ever loyal hearse.

Please call my momma.

And maybe call my dad.

Tell them that I love them;

convince them that I'm not bad.

'Cause I'm on my way out.

What do you

say?

Why don't we spend a

day

doing what we

like.

It's like learning to ride a

bike.

Try, try and

fall.

Learn to make the

call.

For once in your life pretend you're not on the

floor.

Take another step and open up the scary

door.

Close it behind you.

My door's another route.

Back behind the counter, where the men all sit and pout.

'Cause I'm on my way out.

Expected another chorus, did ya?

Used to my repetitive patterns? Tricked ya.

Does that rhyme?

Does that chime?

I don't care at all because it's my time.

No more time to waste, I'm hopping on my own

bandwagon as we go round and round. My tone

has changed over the past few months, as you know.

I don't know where it will stop or the places it will go.

But I write faster every time, leaving patterns behind.

Making my own path down a road. These chains, they bind

my ankles so tightly and sometimes it's hard to walk.

Even harder to talk.

All they do is balk.

Now we're all alone,

right?

Nights are shining so

bright.

Our phones are shiny

twilight.

We're heading for the

last flight.

Faster, faster, closer, louder.

Thin and flaky, lost like powder.

That's the description of our fame.

The one we earn from a stupid game.

The one we earn by a stupid name.

The one we'll give our lives to tame!

But I'm sick of this mess.

I'm sick of social doubt.

I'm sick of inequalities,

and learning to live without.

So take this message, keep it.

I'm on my way out.

Please call my only doctor

and somebody call the nurse.

Message my taxi driver

and his ever loyal hearse.

Please call my momma.

And maybe call my dad.

Tell them that I love them;

please convince them I'm not bad.

'Cause I'm on my way out.

Take my life!

Take my days!

Destroy my strife!

Take my head!

Take my bed!

Take the demons

inside my head!

GET OUT!

Oh. Oh.

I'm on the way out.

At last.

I'm on the way

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© 2016 Not here

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Featured Review

dan

david, This piece is simply f*****g GREAT. It reads like an anthem, a declaration to the world that who you are is how you'll stay...till the WAY OUT beckons and begs to be led. Your rhyming and rhythm/beat stays steady and stormy; the use of CAPITALIZATION and different size fonts can tend to be overused at times but you use them in a great way, for emphasis and impact RIGHT ON TIME!
You know, david, that I don't usually read stuff this long, but this piece drew me in and held me close...focus sharpened and stylized. Quite possibly your best write, IMO. This gets saved in my library favorites. And I think I'll send this out to others who's writing and judgement I wholly respect (if I can figure out how that's done). Congrats on this killer write! take care...dan