Passenger [Poetry]

Sitting back relaxed Driving the wind tossing my hair 55 miles per hour smells of autumn leaves changing I feel these changes inside as I realize for once I am writing my story instead of watching it performed before my eyes. Movie plots run through my mind – what will they say of me when I am gone? Let me choose the actors – my leading man, my friends and enemies the drama and excitement – I will create my own chaos. The people I see day after day know…

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