My Motorcycle Ride
By pyrosfire
As I ride I think.. What was put into these billboards I pass by? Was it the pounding of muscles, the stench of sweat? It is rotten and withered, So I see how man's work is left to die As I ride I try to think but the dust from the road blinds my eyes. I twist and turn, burning my hands and thighs, sliding fast into a rock I start to hollar and cry. As my blood slowly leaves me I start to think.. When people ride or pass by, they will never know who or what died... here... they will only give it one glance of the eye. Written November 16th, 2001 © on Nov 16 2001 01:36 AM PST 10 • 0 • 1
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"As I ride..."