Reblogged with kind permission.
The road called me.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry

I’m tire of same places and faces. I need the road.
The road called me
I’m tire, so damn tired.
Somehow I got lost. I looked into the mirror and I see a bloody stranger.
A ghost of a man I once was. I’m tire of people who have no concern for me.
Just blood suckers stealing my blood and life.
I saw men lay down and died often in my life. Sometime the gun is faster than the slow death.
I was a soldier once and I knew freedom one.
In sweet dreams. I danced, sang, drank and owned nothing but my old truck. I was free of people with fake smiles and worked you till you become dead.
I bleed for people daily…
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