On the lines of my Old Scars

I'll cry out when I'm in pain

but I'll smile too because

it means people will hear me

 and on the lines of my old scars

I'll write poetry and then they'll stop

to read me but they won't find an ending

because I'm still alive and not one for standing still

because I'm pursuing the interstate through Nebraska 

using puddles for mirrors and not giving a damn the changing

scenery  because what is theory will be theory but as for me

I'll cry out when I'm in pain but I'll smile too. Friends in the back

seat, the radio drowning out the lingering thunder.