In the middle of the road

of all that stands on broken-coves

watching the dance of daylight

creeping, slope by slope out the of the frame

withering and wilting

from the way we could have been great

we could have save the day,

maybe made a real change

maybe break pseudo-fame,

maybe held our exhausted heads,

in whisper

proclaim…

America has it problems, our skin to skin issues

maybe its time we solve’em

the haphazardly excursion that nothing’s ever wrong

please excuse me when you see me move

from the lonely broken roads

where the light seems to peep, broken surges

sweltering, broken concrete

I’ll be moving on~kindness sister