winding roads
in the darkness of a full moon
the signs point
to remind me of something
I instinctually know–
avoid death–
and yet I feel anger towards them
their parental condescension
in aim of my headlights
reflecting their warning back towards me
unaware of the tone or color of their message:

I breathe these lanes,
they course through me like my own veins
and to navigate them is as ingrained
as taking a step—

yet here I sit in life
at a crossroads
wishing for a sign