The Car

March 10, 2017
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It’s strange
The car
A machine made by man
That murders men
Take the car I sit by
As I speak my sobering tale
The brakes seemed to fight
Until they stop and fail
I watch the bodies
Cold and limp
(Or so they seem
From where I stand)
Being pulled out
Of the opposing cars
I watch my mother
Sobbing as she claims
“She’s too young!
It’s not to fair!”
I watch my body
Cold, limp, lifeless
Pulled out of the crumpled machine
Dead as a stillborn child

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