The bus

Arrgh!
I have been crushed by a bus.

My eyes must have been clouded,
I did not see it coming.
My bones may well be broken,
and flesh avulsed in two;
With mind so bleak
it's tough to notice.

I know no doctor,
for I don’t ask.
I know no cure,
I'm not so fast.
I think it was a bus.
My eyes might have been closed.

I can speak my mind, though,
Maybe no one hears me,
but I still know it all.
Know that no one listens, even.
Although I am almost certain
that many saw my fall.
Or was it a fall?
Was it even a bus?
I guess I’ll never know.

-----

I like the middle seat
For I can stretch my feet.
I talk to other riders
And they’re all as good as me.
I like this bus, it’s full of them.
Full of those that work today
And tomorrow, if we’re needed,
We’ll do the same, for it’s okay.
I like my seat, it’s all I own,
This bus I cannot leave,
For if I try, without a doubt
My dreams will never be.
My dreams… my dreams… are they the seat?
And will it come apart?
And just when I begin to think
My head and eyes shut tight.
Comfortable! I ride.

-----

Hello! Step into my bus.
Sit on my seats, drink your juice.
I can see breadcrumbs on your shoes
From yesterday’s last supper.
If you clean them, good for you.
If I clean them, learn from me.
Look there, see my highway;
I made it mine for you to walk upon it,
For you to seed your fields.
But remember, it’s my highway!

I use both hands to drive;
I sweat blood until we arrive.

Accidents? Fear not.
Your life before mine,
Since once I’m dead, again I’ll rise
And take it from the start.
What I touch is mine;
I am the bus driver, with me you’ll ride.