The Anatomy of a Soul in the Fast Lane

"The clock has struck three, the coffee is cold, and the shadows are beginning to speak. Welcome back to the desk of The Night Writer, where the stories are brewed in the dark."

​We emerge from the factory, glossy and new,
With high-definition dreams and a polished view.
Some are born Ferraris, sleek and built for the chase,
While some of us are minivans, just taking up space.
We all start with "zero miles" on the soul,
Before the first pothole takes its inevitable toll.

​Observe the teenagers, those modified tuners,
Loud in the muffler and late-night carousers.
They’ve got neon underglow and a lot of high hopes,
But they’re prone to stalling on life’s steeper slopes.
They rev at the red lights, desperate to be seen,
While their internal processors are still youthful and green.

​Then come the Mid-Lifers, the sturdy Sedans,
With reasonable cup holders and sensible plans.
They’ve developed a rattle they choose to ignore,
And a mysterious stain on the passenger floor.
They require premium fuel just to get out of bed,
With a "Check Engine" light blinking deep in their head.

​We all know the person who’s a classic, vintage find,
Beautiful to look at, but a nightmare to unwind.
They look great in the driveway, a masterpiece of art,
But it takes three specialists just to make them start.
And then there’s the friend, the reliable truck,
Who hauls all your baggage when you’re down on your luck.

​We carry our dents like badges of pride,
With a layer of "road salt" stuck to our side.
Our joints start to creak like an ungreased door,
And we don't go from zero to sixty anymore.
We leak a few fluids, our gaskets get tight,
And we squint through the fog with a dimming headlight.

​But whether you’re a Hybrid or a gas-guzzling beast,
Whether you’re a luxury build or the very least,
We’re all just metal and spirit, trying to stay in our lane,
Navigating the traffic, the sun, and the rain.
And when the tread wears thin and the battery dies,
We hope we left a few good tracks under the open skies.

​"Daylight is coming to claim the quiet, but these words stay with you. If you enjoyed this journey into the midnight hours, leave a heart or a tip to keep the candles burning. Sleep well—if you can. — The Night Writer."