Road-roller..

Parched throat ending in doom,
Road to heaven ending in gloom.
Irony of life thus shining long,
Devilish in its intent of wrong.
Not a vehicle to hop into,
Not a soul to talk with.
Just the feverish isolation,
Blessing or curse I know not.
The sun brightens up a little soon,
Making morning change shape to noon.
I walk like carton,feeling like cartoon,
Without hope,without soul of cocoon.
My song falls blows away,
My voice has now a cavity.
I slowly trudge forward,
Escaping from harsh reality.
The food has lost its track,
The tongue has lost its snack.
The head spins and I simply roll,
The heat thus picks me for its next toll.