No one knows what I think.
Ever.
Unless they ask and I tell the truth, I can find refuge from all people within myself.

----

The cars speed around us,
And the road in front converges to the smallest point imaginable.
Someday we will reach there,
And maybe that's what I'm thinking about.
She wonders, and so does he.
But the rest of them just go along as if nothing ever happens, and all live in separate spaces.

The one in the front is curious of what foolishness the kids in back do every thirty seconds.
Her neck must hurt from her pathetic anxiety.

This one sleeps next to me and dreams of the things she wishes true.
I am sandwiched in between her and the one who always thought talking was terrible. Everyone loves that he finally came around.
I wonder if the road and world around us might just one moment lift up.
It may wake up the ignorant children,  who believe that judgement is justified and problems may be solved without solutions.

----

This is what I think about, and they will never know.