Taxi Driver

January 23, 2018

In search of simple redemption when sadness gets the best of me
I let my taxi driver be my shrink, I tell him to let the meter run
I speak to him candidly through rush hour
I tell him about my faults, I describe my struggles
But then I look out the window, I hear the news on his radio
I fall silent in embarrassment
Our city is bleeding, our liberty is wounded
I think about it constantly, but dance in my own shadows
Rather than protest the injustices of my generation
Because even freedom is knotted to the strings of oppression
It’s so easy to be angry, it takes so much effort to ignore
History repeats itself, like the taxi driver going around the same block
Over and over






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