The Man in the Car

Everyone is trapped in their own car, silent and hidden from others on the outside.

The car door swings open,

Eyes filled with pressure.

Behind them are welts,

Waiting to burst full of salt.

The man sits down,

Stretched lengthwise along his 93' Camry,

Sobs silent to those outside, in the dark driveway.

Waiting, for nothing in particular.

Maybe it's waiting for a moment, 

An undefined moment, 

One we can't relate to exactly. 

A moment that breathes meaning into us,

Gives us a reason to wake up.

We wait for the man to see this moment, 

Hidden from his face, a pair of damaged hands

Covering him from the unheard truth that we all seek.

He chooses not to seek the truth,

But instead, he embraces the lost pain that he feels.

We call to this man, "Can't you see!

Living draws freedom! Free Will! Free Life! 

Be happy you wake up and choose! Choose to love!

Choose life!" But the man goes unheard,

Overlooked by our own sadness, 

Our own pained man inside our car door of our mind.

We're too caught up to give the real man,

Lost and silent to outsiders,

Any second look,

We sit and wait for someone to bring that Special moment to us,

Hoping that it will wake us for one more day.