Mantled Blue

The RoadWeary, the days tread down upon my head. I am the road. Tyres seek to slake their thirst forThe Road
freedom. Their desperation burns along the plethora highways. Where do they go? Know not I. Perhaps they reach the end of the world and fall off...
But I think not.
All I know is The horizon swallows them and then they are gone.
Perhaps I will feel their weary tread again.
Maybe. Maybe not.
ps. I just stole your wall Virginity.
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"The Revolution will not be televised" Gil Scott-Heron
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"The Revolution will not be televised" Gil Scott-Heron
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