Problem Solved. Poem by Carl Roussell

Problem Solved.



He was driving too fast
To see the turnout's passed
Travelling down the highway.
And he was the driver
When he felt the shiver,
He felt his own grave that day.
He found the path, he smiled.
A cul-du-sac, he laughed.
Problems solved in his own way.

(C) 2019

Saturday, February 16, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: despair,despondent,suicide
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Carl Roussell

Carl Roussell

Trenton, Ontario
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