on her journey through life i was a pothole where her soul lay in anguish for the briefest time

an obnoxious dream keeping her spinning in place for far too long

now she is free to travel the land, an eye open for more treacherous pitfalls with hazel eyes and the devil’s grin

she learned the lesson well, ne’er needing to repeat the hand to the stove for her

and i sit patiently, awaiting the next vehicular incident that signals a fresh chance at old mistakes

she was born to be free, i to hold captive, is it any wonder she flies high above the land, while i lurk in this pit

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