Rehabilitation / The Passing Lane


I always get in the passing lane...
I don’t have to worry about anything or anyone with the concrete barrier I put up on my left
But our method has flaws
I still worry about the people on my right, seeping into peripheral
Sometimes pulling in front of me and stopping, others times staying in my blind vision waiting for me to try and change lanes just to honk their horn
All the distractions, I don’t see the break in the road
I crash into the holes of my heart, flying through the windshield
Almost landing on my feet, but I’m going too fast
Wake up in the hospital, an empty room
Full of equipment and others in their own isolated rooms, only separated by thin curtains
Tending to our own wounds, trying to use the tools around pretending like we know what we’re doing
Little do we know, others close by, everywhere, experience similar injuries
Billions in one hospital, the only difference in our pains is a thin curtain, maybe some thicker than others
The occasional
pushes away the curtain either before or after healing their own wounds, helping others
Only they realize that if you take the curtains away, we all share the same hospital floor
Trying to help every person that’s admitted
What we don’t see is that there’s always someone who can’t figure out how to use their tools, and no one else can find their room.
They pass and affect people around them, and the effecteds’ wounds won’t heal for a little longer, but everyone gets better...


  • Author: Iso (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 13th, 2017 02:35
  • Comment from author about the poem: I wouldn’t say I’m a poet but there are times I’m laying in bed at 12:26 AM and catch some feelings that are too grand for the experiences I’ve had at my young age, although I’ve probably gone through more than most of the “Scottsdale kids”.
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 17


  • Shadowbox15

    I think that’s a fine poem. 😊

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