crash.
shatter.
destroyed.
lifeless on the on-ramp
of some nameless,
numbered
exit
on some highway
in some city
in some state,
just like all the others.
the flickering of
red and white,
warning passersby
and those
stupid enough
to think that they can
escape their eventual fate
blind and almost bring us
to that end
sooner than we had hoped.
he was only trying to get
home.
"one more curve and one more
exit, and i will scoop my daughter
up
in my arms
and never let her go," he told himself
as the searing lights grew
larger,
closer,
until they were pressed against
his fractured body,
bruising and devastating
his existence.
i am quickly
distracted
by the displays of this
so-called "freedom"
and the drunken desire
to light any(every)thing on fire.
outstretch my arms.
make myself weight(it is an illusion)less.
where do you think you are
going? you've
got to get home.
you can't stop for him.
but don't worry.
we'll all get there someday,
too.
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