Dug, bared, ripped
Lying obscene in its nudity,
Trudged, dragged, wounded to the core.
“Is that my destiny?” I ask you.
You, who constantly use me,
Ride upon me,
Fall upon me,
“Do you ever think of my fate?”
Rudely you undress me
Shamelessly you char me
With burning tar and mortar
Road rollers to liven, enliven me
“What happens then?”
Some dig me to erect tents
Some to lay a pipeline or a cable,
Some for no rhyme or reason;
Immature roads built in haste
To loot and fill coffers against my prestige
Then down comes the rain
To cover up their dishonesty
And lo and behold!
“I am gutted into suicidal gutters,”
Ready to resurrect and built again
For another seasonal shower