March 17, 2017
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the key i turn to bring her to life,

the head gasket whines and she puffs out smoke.

rusty imperfection from years of strife,

toiling for heat but with a gentle stroke.

for wheels of black they coast through my life,

endlesssly turning from blackness to gray.

cutting through life like a sharpened knife.

leaving me stuck with a sdensed of betray.

four doors of blue they help keep me confined,

as the thermostatit stress fully chokes.

to school to work she is never on time,

break downs and fill ups she leaves me broke,

troublesome necessity its my life.

she will eventually arrive. 

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