Bits of scalp
And lumps of flesh
Mar the reflective chrome.
The jolly orange-yellow
Of the long body is dented.
And strained purple-brown.
This
Is the bus
Which people
Are thrown under.
It is, of course,
An abstraction construct metaphor.
But nontheless.
The driver,
With his mediocre hygiene habbits…
Grins, and shows his almost white teeth.
As someone
Lets you down,
Turns there back,
Or stabs you there…
As the wheels approach
You try to not wonder what the sound of your skull being squashed will make.
Instead, your last reflection:
It’d be so much easier,
If you’d been simply
Hung out to dry.
