The mind is always busy.
Mine is a highway
Busy with traffic.
The cars are all the same-
black
The color of dullness,
The color of my thoughts.
But there is one different from the rest.
Its color is not black.
This car is a different color-
red
The color of love,
The color of anger.
It crosses my mind quite often
Driving down the highway of my thoughts
The driver-
Someone I recognize.
Why is he driving away?-
I am angry.
And now he comes back-
I am in love.
Why must this car race through my thoughts?
It torments me.
I can no longer stand it
And then…
It is gone.
No longer there…
Ripped away from the highway
Just as my heart,
Ripped away…