The freeway is very loud. Not necessarily in the way of the ceaselessly horns encouraging the permanent crowd of cars, but in the way of the road itself. Where the sound of the street rolling out from under worn down tires floods the air, blurring the music on the radio and placing everything through a muffler until every unheard question is "what did you say" and every thought isn't worth making.
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he/him/you
Poetry[completed] some half assed thoughts i've had about unrequited love and unnecessary hope shattering revelations
