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by ALEX Jan 13, 2009
Life, society /
Cradled in heavy, grieving arms,
my head is wrapped in a fog of sorrow.
Cushioned, I can't feel the bumps in the road.
I am safely unaware and protected,
and with a final, unfelt lurch, the road ends.
I emerge from my fog, at the end of my road.
My sorrow at my feet, I try to look back,
but the road is too blurred and out of focus.
I have reached the end unscathed, unalive.