One-Way Bus Trip

Who sat in this seat before me?
Did they sit comfortably?
Or were they cocked to one side rubbing two fingers to their left brain with the right pressed carelessly against a strange, cold window pane?
On rolling, rain-spattered wheels, we find ourselves turning
Over-analyzing and relearning the past in different ways
Oh how the mind plays these mindless games
While we pay the price of sanity,
Self-esteem, comfort, security..
These are all things I never had
Not saying it wasn't my bad, but how was I to know it was an early grave I'd be digging?
Without it, I wouldn't also be sitting
Here staring into a world of possibility
Of connections to a stranger thru a shared struggle to dig these graves
These memorials of lives that could be saved if only we could make a difference
Change the course of this common interest..
Whether it was a brother, a mother, or maybe another
We've had to sit here for decades pondering the same thing
Where would this bus really be taking us?