Changes in the roads and shifts are always shaky
because they happen midway
you tell me, a public display of a private fact:
I cannot drive but I am trying
this is how the road usually ends
we either arrive, disheveled and bumpy
or we return, there are no two ways about it
there's an end somewhere down the road
made especially to fit the people like me
who are unable to dirve but still sick of walking
because the effort of pushing one foot to keep the other
standing takes too long, and requires strength that we
those able to walk cannot have pinned in good time
to the things that make us true to ourselves;
all the bare trees, our youth buried with sprinkled time
this is the shift in the road, I can see the end but
let's keep driving.
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