Hands to the eyes. Signals to the tragedy forwarded with lights. We are blinded while crying for no shoulder to stop us. Collision is inevitable. Winter is inconceivable for what will be written in snow or ashes. White-out in the debris. Onward, We will not stop. The brakes never work when hearts do not even yield. We were produced from thin air. We will remain damaged on the highway with water, not tears to clean away the contents of our hearts.