putting my hands up
as is. no returns or exchanges.
showing both hands
the cards up your sleeves
the wheels keep turning
brakes are burning
nobody dares to sit in the driver's seat
everyone wants to steer
someone else giving direction
from the back seat
in a car two lanes over
still withing the flow of traffic
things get ugly
noticed last
bumpers bumping
afternoon slump
switching lanes
jumping tracks
as is
no returns or exchanges
to just be one of the boys
everyone wants to know
if i belong here or not
if this is the way home
if this is a gift, an insult, or both
if it smells like more than roses
if when the wind shifts
it still smells like...
About the Creator
⸘jason alan‽
:::WARNING:::
i am only responsible for what i say,
not for what you understand.
you may learn to be charmed by my [secret‽] discontent,
or you may not.
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Comments (1)
A very interesting poem!