Gnawing At Insides Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Gnawing away at these insides is something that can't be
figured out, haunting and pushing me out into the night.

Riding without any goal, if trying to stop, can't seem
to do it at all.

What is behind this late night rendezvous? Where is it's
purpose in life?

There are no answers, it just claims life each night with
powerful grips of ice.

Never thinking twice because the balance of life is sitting
behind the steering wheel, awaiting the word that will say
quit.

To Stop driving around at night sounds reasonable, but I
fight it to the end, wanting to have my way.