i walked onto the crosswalk 'lone 
cause i was wanting to feel more
so i found myself in oily tires,
screechin' and scratchin' rugged cement,
burnin' n searin' concrete's deep crevices,
and it made me rememberin' my mama
for her skin is like the broken road,
gnarled, so arthiritis has her clammy and ugly,
fading into transparency, so i felt her bulging vein
up and down like street's yellow dotted line,
meant to be crossed, i think, but doesnt everyone cut,
not just wrists, but for places at the soup kitchen first,
so the dingy color enlivened by bursts of red
and my mama be the road, she be the dyin' road,
where people be walkin' all over her, i hear 
the people be yellin' and screamin', like them
shriekin' n' sheddin' oily car tires, and
they be tramplin' top my poor mama's soul,
but then i think i might be stupid cause'
i been startin' to scream and shout
feelin' a lil' like cryin' n' dyin'
in the middle of the crosswalk cause'
i dont want my mama to feel no more
but she doesnt, and now she cant.