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Bike Ride
March 5, 2019
They say it’s like riding a bike
Even if it’s been months or years.
You hold it in your hands,
the familiar weight,
the familiar texture.
Then you go, down the hill, no helmet on.
Screaming into the Void
No one hears
The wind is a slap to the face, making your eyes water.
Your legs pumping as fast as the
Blood drips out
At the bottom of the hill you look
down at the path of destruction you have made
and cry
© Sam G., Bethesda, MD
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Just A Comparison poem. Can you guess what it is actually talking about? o_O