A Pause

There are certainly more cars you can see there than here when you've not opened the windows yet.
The lights you see have similarities with stars; they do not come here.
It is scary to be feeling this way. The door's locked and had only been opened when forced.
There comes a time you shall be asking about things only mothers care about. Which is nothing really.
There's pain in being uncouth, more when you're hammering concrete nails with a wooden block.

 by
Matthew Lyon