It Never Leaves Poem by Randy Briggs

It's in the cars that
race along and vanish
into the horizon.

It's on the faces of
people who eat into
their cell phones to
forget the world,
forget their own pain.

It hangs in the air
like smog and
grows faster than
cancer.

One can see it in
the lonely and the
dying, the uncertain
and regrettable.

This thing tries to
hide itself away
in some dark corner
of the world or
a shodow deep down
in your soul.