Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

roadkill and the ghost of a dead horse beaten

I’m not some shit car
For you to drive around
Run red lights and park sloppily
Over the lines, fuck your rolling stops
The brakes really aren’t that difficult to find
Quit trying to drive me straight down winding roads
And stop jumping lanes when no one else is around
There is no one left to impress
They departed after your failed first impression
Quit chasing the yellow lines on the ground
Faster than the limits, too hasty, running over
Words of roadkill,
Burning the hide of your wheels
Stealing fresh air from my nostrils
Leaving me only to feel disgusted
As the dead horse rolls over in its grave,
Annoyed that once again it’s being tripped over again
When will this conversation ever end
I quietly reflect in my reflection in the rearview mirror
Objects are larger than they appear
I hope you remember that of your own self-involvement
I think with a sneer

Thank you for reading this poem from
Reflections 2015, A Poetry Collection of Written Works by Tiny Fawns
This is a poetry compilation project featuring previously written content that I will share during periods of time when I am not available to provide daily updates. All poems from this collection were scheduled a week in advance. All comments, questions, and ping backs will receive a response once I return.

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