If life were a moving vehicle, mine would be a taxi on the main streets of New York.
Constantly getting cut off by people, who appear to know the road better than I do.
The taxi driver doesn't know where she's going, for the only road to take is new.
There are no maps on the road of life so people tell you to follow the stars,
But the stars can only take you so far, and there are no brakes on this ever moving car.
YOU ARE READING
Walk Between the Lines
PoetryAn expression of my thoughts and emotions through ambiguous writing. Poetic, isn't it?
