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Like a Car With No Breaks

Hear we go again down that winedy road, which no one wants to admits it's there. A little push was all it took and slowly but surely my old car is speeding down this road over 100 miles an hour now, with out any breaks. Know-one knows I don't have any anymore, nor do they see how fast I'm going.

I can't tell them for what would they think of my car?

Sure some will say "That's nice."

What didn't you hear me!

Is my reality so immense that you can't possibly under stand it, or worse do you really not care…

Some might feel bad for this old car, but will they help fix it?…. No….

My hands desperately reach-out and try to grab on to a branch to stop my descent. To no avale they slip though my grasp ripping apart and bruising my small fingers. And now the upcoming strong branchs that I see pull away as I reach out, and back off from me as I cry.

So down it goes the winedy road. Itís too dark to see were it exactly goes .

Oh by the way, the head lights on this old peice of work don't work ether.

I don't know, I don't know , All I do is that I can hear the crash of cold steel up ahead on this dark steep winedy road.




Brady Smith

cc Thursday, April 17, 1997