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Pb (Lead) MAG
January 22, 2010
Rubbing off the road
Wiping it clean with your
Tires squealing to the beat
Eyes rounder than the headlights
Lead foot presses lighter
Than the lead block in
Your stomach as it screams
The beads of sweat race to
Your mouth, the taste of
Salt revs your pulse to the
Maximum as you drown out
The sounds of leaving
© Jennifer C., Carrollton, TX
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JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 2 comments.
PerfectMGymnast DIAMOND said...
on Dec. 31 2010 at 7:49 pm
I love this poem!! It's really good! Especially the ending! it ends the poem well!!! :) I also like the whole idea of the poem. You must have worked so hard on this!!:) Also can you please take a look at my writing- The cul-de-sac and The watering hole (That are published on this website) And please rate and comment on them?? It would be greatly appreciated!! THANKS!!! :) :)
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Favorite Quote:
"Joy, something that is found in small cracks and hiding places that we can only see when our eyes are closed"---Me. ( Yeah, i made myself a quote deal with it.)