Blinking eyes stretch into the world
showing the road to bleed.
Redness stains the distance ahead;
a wounded centipede.
Oncoming is an endless torch -
Bloodless light is blinding.
Our personal path to glory
is what we’re slowly finding.
There are orange eyes that wink and
gradually stop the flow.
They burn so hard to angry red
and will not let us go.
So long lines of lights lay like lead
in restlessness and stress.
Bright green dazzles and sets about
encouraging the mess.
Streetlights shine and show us the scene -
a truck laid on its back.
Surrendering its mangled guts
to the baying wolf pack.
The necks of rubber gaze across -
Victory is hollow.
People gather to watch the show -
Flashing blue lights follow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem