Crowned in gravel

I'm totally exhausted, wondering if life is a car exhaust. Maybe I'm just smoke in motion, burning dreams for fuel I can't afford. Or I might be just a windscreen, only of use when it rains. People look through me, but never pause to see the stains. Often ignored, like tires only checked on once I'm worn out— still I keep rolling. Even gravel can’t convince me to break. How many needles and glass have I endured to keep the train moving? Still they wonder why I creak, why my silence sounds like breaking. I have chose you in every turn and curve, thinking you were my destination but some maps lie in silence, and not all roads were meant to arrive. So reclaim what I have lost: I'm taking the sharp glass and gravels, embedding them on my crown. Let them see every crack I survived my glory isn’t gold, it’s grit. Today I’m shamelessly proud of every journey, ’cause it showed me new roads. And every scar sings of motion— proof I never stayed broken.