Red eyes—they're blinding
From a distance,
Flooding spots reserved for
Lights of night.
Shining with unease, not for me,
But one day a possibility.
Don't think like that—
I assure you,
Nothing is wrong,
But that's what everyone
Thinks at first.
Cold tires, they drive away—
Not a chance they'd make it,
Not with a silence like that.
Perhaps a chance still floats.
I might just be gloomy,
Thinking the worst,
But the red eyes decline from
Typical parking lot lighting
And the silence settles the dark.
I hope the siren comes to life
When the road is reached.
That would be a better sign.