The Road That Leads To There

The road that leads to where is also tinged with sorrow most know best. While the rooster on his wooden perch to soon, the sun comes up. On any road, you walk on foot or travel on an empty train has left. Street signs that see their dreams in green are read from left to right. Old these people are to scared and cold to wait like standing trees asleep to long and winter comes to late they can't hang on. Some young women hold the cries of older men inside and then their face is gone other voices heard at night are gone without a trace. From the city or the state some wander naked. In the garden near one corner lies an unborn child one hides. Graffiti on the walls scrawled written names of all the dead.