The Traitor

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on a dusty road
 a vehicle make them loose
and jet over your path
flying dust don’t lie
to color your hair
like the iron’s deadly rust
life is sometimes stalked by dust
where luster is fogged to dull
and it needs a daily wipe
to shine the gloss that it once had
rust clings to steel or iron
that’s harder than wood or clay
it’s his own skin that kills
and be considered a junk for the rolling mill
 life has shortened  the body where it grows
scrapping them would mean a prisoner in death row
the sight of what has  become so thin 
the steel or iron, the might it once lived
has a traitor of his own skin

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