line
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My eyes count the striped white lines
In the middle of the street.
I speed and the lines zoom by faster.
Making my eyes shake
Back
And Forth.
Unable to count anymore,
They become a solid line.
Good and bad.
Where is the line drawn.
What differentiates the good from the bad.
We all sin, make mistakes, and chose the wrong paths
Yet we are still good.
What crosses the line to make us bad?
As we drift west 'neath cotton wisps and buttes,
Cerulean and pearly white combine
To mock at spinach-green and call it mute,
And point it to the highway's yellow line.
People keep trying to mold me into a star
Or a square
Or whatever it is they want me to be
It doesn’t matter
I’ll keep being me
And even if all I am is a straight line,
That’s just fine.
Though the walls crumble around us
Though our time may be but short
Though a thousand more surround us
And grim grows the report
Will you choose to stay here?
The choice is as you please
