You.


Untitled (not finished):

A rusted piece of metal
my door unhinged from its body
pieces of what it used to be
left behind.

Bright orange that reminds me of a sunset
yet you a caution cone.
My thick lines are merely a reflection
showing you that
I am there
and for you to beware.

Broken and rundown
that is all you see
it cannot be fixed
however I must object.
A broken car not of use to you
but for me it's all I know.

Painting over the discoloration
only to have to push the car before it runs.
Unlike you I cannot just throw it away
because it may not look perfect from afar
but the interior is still untouched.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem