Wisdom's a cage, but fools are in charge,
Windows of a getaway, a restless mirage.
The quiet pull, a wheel that won’t steer right,
“Enough someday,” says death in the night.
Faith’s a secret, like undressing slow,
And the world tugs left, just so you know.
Life’s the track, and time’s the smoke,
You bleed if you must, or take the streets.
Fall to your knees or stand in defeat,
But you’re stuck in place—no easy retreat.
Racing to the car, dodging traffic’s snare,
A casket in gridlock, anger’s default there.
Write it down, love needs practice too,
The writer meets his muse, then sees it through.