Sacked trams actions jammed, heating inner wiring melting hands too hot to touch. And it all goes out the window, or it would if you could open it. Only the strength of bathe. Fearing tomorrow today, the next day. Riding you bicycle. Shaped like a razor into a car- shaped like a Buller. And all the promises you made to everyone else. The silence; well it all comes crumbling down in a wall of noise. Fear strikes in failure. Figures finality. Friends and family oppose the want of rested auto-mental-destruction. My bicycle revisits the paths many trod. Tried and true, I swerve in the hope- of making it to tomorrow.

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