Passenger


The artist in me, the part you can't see, is screaming. I'm stuck like being in a locked car without a key and electric windows. Barely enough air to breathe. I want out. I have to pace myself, because it's not my car. It's OK though. Because I have to go with you. I am stuck. I tried the window and it opened. There is air. Until the one in charge gets to cold?Why did I come on this trip? The artist in me is dying. Is it dead? If I am watered will it come back to life like a plant? The morning dew made me come alive. I had a nice drink bathed in dew. It was a little chilly but it felt so good. Dewy. I want to go to sleep so I can wake up again. A new morning. A drop of water. Enough to keep me going till I get out of this car.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem



This Poems Story

this poem is about being obligated to someone you love, and hating that person at the same time.