Without Permission Poem by Faith Wood

Don't question my expertise,
I'm on a mission
Crawling out when the bombs cease,
I'm without permission

I'm the epitome of indecison
Calling out your name at the last
I'm the carrying voice, a small incision,
the timely manner of the past

But the shadow is cast,
my cover is blown
and I'm moving way too fast
with all the stop signs I own

Maybe I should have flown,
though there are worse things than a car crash
so now I must not forget the loan,
I'll give it all up in a flash