The Drive

They tell us to drive, faster and faster,

Everyone is to be a master;

Some will forget, so I will now remind,

Those who are slow are always left behind.

 

We’re driving up a never ending hill,

Chasing the promise of an absent thrill;

The minimum gets higher and higher

The need becomes so incredibly dire.

 

Some are driving, driving the road so bright,

The future is so close, yet not in sight;

Then there are others with a certain mark,

Who feel like they are driving through the dark.

 

Some people see what’s wrong, and wish to stop,

Even so, these people fear that same drop;

In the end we keep driving anyway,

I don’t know why, and who is to say?

 

Well maybe, just maybe, those in the dark

See the stars on this journey they embark;

Because you must look for that hidden hope,

On this road of a slippery slope.

 

And I hope on this road there is more dust

Behind you, then will be in front of us.

 Because this race we are in never ends,

But a strong driver does not break, he bends.

This poem is about: 
Me
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