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Circles

I’ve traced this highway more times than I’ll say, same cracked shoulder, same radio hum. Feels like the world’s on a lazy susan, spinning me back to where I came from. I chase the horizon like it’s something earned, but every mile just gets returned. Driving away from here, driving away to here, every mile I put behind me draws the same place near. Driving away from here, driving away to here, I guess some roads are built in circles and we just volunteer. I’ve packed up plans that never took shape, boxed-up versions of who I meant to be. I’ve turned the map like it held an escape, but it keeps folding back into me. I swear I’m moving, but the truth is clear— I’m orbiting the same old fear. Driving away from here, driving away to here, every mile I put behind me draws the same place near. Driving away from here, driving away to here, I guess some roads are built in circles and we just volunteer. Maybe the point was never the miles, never the towns that flicker and fade. Maybe the loop is part of the trial, a shape we follow because we’re made. If every ending brings me back again, maybe that’s where I begin. Driving away from here, driving away to here, every mile I put behind me draws the same place near. Driving away from here, driving away to here, I guess some roads are built in circles and we just volunteer. Driving away from here… driving away to here…