A Turn to Traffic

A Turn To Traffic

By Allie Marie 

I don’t know what happened.

I don’t know why.

My feet have stopped treading.

I’ve turned to pavement.

The glowing light works like an alarm

and I’m just following the noise.

It is all an echoed headache

drawn out by yellow lines.

I heard stop.

You said go.

I thought fast.

You said slow.

I’m on a race to the exit.

We’re all doomed for

at least one crash.

How did we come here?

We beg for freedom.

At last. At last.

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