Down On The Ground

February 22, 2010
By Anonymous

There I was,
A cold summer night,
I stepped on the bus,
Hoping everything would be alright.

And so we drove,
Soaring as if in flight,
So aggresive,
Like the bus was in a fight.

A quick curve in the road,
As if the highway was in spite,
And so we died,
On that cold summer night.


The author's comments:
I wrote this in class.

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