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Aug 2018
Blinded windshield, a steady drop.
Cling to the wheel, brake only to stop.
Beginning a journey we hope will not end
Alone and forgotten, the rules which will bend.
Lights shut off, and wipers too,
Gathering weather impedes the view.
Turning the dial to will the bass
The sound feels good as it hits our face.
Faltering eyes, we shut them tight
And activate our fight-or-flight.
That instinctive buzz, the hormone release
Strikes our body and makes us feel free.
A temporary rush as we end our day
Leaves us breathless, and hopeless, with nothing to say
Written by
Bryan  18/M/NY
(18/M/NY)   
255
   Fawn
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