a story of woe
written in bent mettle
and shattered glass

told from behind
told as if blind
raging, running, ranting

a worn and withered wheel
turning, ever turning
so very fast

your reflection comes at me
all high-beams and screams
whipping this way
and that

instinctively, I look for distance
long for the law
I’ll gladly be the first one
to rat

if I weren’t otherwise
so very occupied

surely, goodness and mercy
hasn’t followed thee
in a very long time
or at least since four years past

surely, all good people
run from thee
shun thee

it is simply
so very obvious to me
this terror
this traffic travesty
cannot last

come what may
I pray
no other souls
with you
are cast