Chaos
To fall behind
To come up short
Smudge my line
Or worse, abort
I cannot see
Too much to fathom.
A thick debris
Of many passions
One track mind
Obsessive kind
Can’t switch lanes
For lack of time
Taillights glow
Straight ahead
Road closed
End, dead
Arrows pointing
Orange cones
A clear warning
To shift zones
Gears won’t budge
Frozen limbs
Sticky grudge
Buried ends
Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2019
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