My mind races

It looks a lot like the highway


Hidden beneath the massive throughways

live displaced people trying to survive

Cars pass them by

And I am the  car

driving like i’m important

I look down on the destitute with disgust

I lament about do-nothings who mooch
turn my nose at passing at hands in need

The views under the bridge are mine

They extend to me

begging me to for me to help with what I can

I don’t see me

I’m going too fast

I don’t even notice

Trying to get to a destination

Going nowhere fast

To a place that makes me matter as much as I made the views under the bridge matter.

A place where I don’t matter.


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