Mile Marker Pulse

The dark comes down, a heavy sheet,

the world outside, a lonely beat.

Just headlights cut the velvet black,

no turning round, no looking back.

The broken white line, swift and bright,

pulses under, lost to night.

The engine hums, a steady drone,

just me inside, completely lone.

Past exit signs that blur and fade,

a landscape built of silent shade.

Each mile a whisper, swift and low,

where do I go? I don't quite know.