I'm inconsiderate, isn't that what you say i am
I eat you up like it's the silence of the lamb
every day you're a meal to me
even though you get to live comfortably
what's in your mind is all you're gonna see
everything at fault is all because of me
I am sensitive to peoples feelings too
so I empathize, turn around to be accused
of being the one, "the cause", the mental abuse
even though I try to see it from your point of view
you think I don't care and you say I'm unloved
while you are going undetectable hands covered with gloves
the spots where your prints should linger on my soul
there is nothing there so nobody really knows
all of the times that you've lost all control
chewed me up spit me out
made sure I knew my role
yes sir, no sir, don't speak until you're spo.......
About the Creator
Can You Drive a Ford Fiesta Through a Desert?
I’m flying down the B1 highway from Windhoek to Keetmanshoop with a map and a boot full of camping gear. I’m excited for the first stop of my Namibian road trip: the Quiver Tree Forest. I spot the sign and turn onto the C17, off the tarmac and onto the gravel. I’ll be there soon; it’s only ten miles or so. I am unprepared for what comes next. The car slides and slips across the road. I am not fully in control anymore. I slow to a crawl. The car judders and shudders, the noise deafening, the vibrations rattling the teeth in my skull. It takes me around an hour to drive the ten miles. I arrive at the campsite relieved to be in one piece, even if it feels like all my bones have been shaken slightly out of place. I will later learn that this is what happens when the gravel road becomes “corrugated”, and that the roads authority goes round once a week to “grade” them. Seems I arrived about 6 days after the grader had last been round.
By Jenifer Nim3 days ago in Wander
Comments (1)
This is a good poem and very true! Well written!