Every car in its passing has a story.
Every driver, a bigger one.
17 or more years of knowledge pressed tighter into their mind than their sweaty hands on the wheel.
Foot hung lower on the exhaust than their loved one hung lifeless from the ceiling.
Flashbacks cause more interference to their journey in life than the passing police car.
Pulled aside and forced to stop everything for the one officer that questioned them as witness.
Although we both know they only witnessed a body.
YOU ARE READING
Food for thought (poems)
PoetryA bunch of poetry that can be seen in many different ways. A lot about growing up :)
