A Road Turned In

I used to believe the open road
Healed all wounds
And how it soothed
The standing heat of idle days
Rolled out every which way
But home.

These roads became a vascular web,
A spaghetti junction,
Serving a single function:
Protecting the pocket that
Would not heal

Using these temporary escapes
To instead restore, to expose,
To open the pocket, to close
The distance between two points
And no one untraveled
Knows the pain,

The hope,

The strength it takes
To roll up the pavement.

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