If Traffic Jams Could Talk

The cars hum low, they start to sing. A symphony of

horns that sting. Red lights flash like warning signs. They hold the secrets in the

lights. Whispers in the brake light glow. What do they know?

What do they know? If traffic jams could talk. Would they scream

or softly mock? Would they tell us where we're going? Or why we're

stuck here not knowing? Exhaust fumes rise like morning prayers. To God to

watch but never care. Each lane's a story half erased. A journey paused,

a life misplaced. Tires sigh, the asphalt cries. Do they see