Rustling
Some experiences you have to write down
Or they get lost in the mystery
Rustling down the backroads of France
Like a napkin holding a name of person
Whom you’ll never meet or see again
You want to scream out in frustration
Who will hear or understand
Life
Expectations you should have never expected
What holds you to that reality?
Lies 5 miles down the road
Behind some rock or tree
And you’re on your train
Speeding........
 

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