Descriptive Essay- The Croswalks Sorrow
I feel as if I am never allowed to sleep. In the small hours of the morning, I might get an hour of peace and quiet before somebody walks in-between me or drags their tires across me. It is a never-ending job, and I am never in control of anything. The only thing that controls my life is the constant changing of the red, yellow, and green lights flashing in each direction. Even that guy, that bright, white colored stick figure tells me what to do. He?s always changing his mind. ?Walk,? or ?Don?t Walk,? he can never make a decision and stick to it. Sometimes I think he works in cahoots with the red, green and yellow flashing lights. It might just be a conspiracy against me.
As I said earlier, each day seems to run into the next, and the only was I can be sure that a new day has started is when that boy on the green and silver banana-seat bike rides across me, as if he were a semi-trailer truck. He rides right in the street, and he always ignores the red, green, and yellow
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