Traffic

I turn away from my drink for a second, and then in three days, I'm in a crate being shipped to god knows where to do god knows what. No escape, no plans, no nothing. Already being ruined enough, I'm taken and erased knowing that no one in their right mind will miss me. But that's exactly what these sleazy Jerks want anyways. Someone nobody knows, so nobody will care about, and somebody the world could have been better off without, and that someone just happened to be me.