When you drive, you think you’re so cool In a car with a fresh paint job Pristine Tires almost glossy But you drive too fast Your car is so clean Because it sits Unused In your garage I don’t know what your road is like But you always seem to have a flat tire And when we race You think you’re beside me You think you’ve beaten me You’ve just completed your first lap I’m on my twenty-seventh Going on twenty-eighth You’re not fast When I drive, it’s a usual feeling In a car with some age Practical Tires changed frequently And I drive fast My car looks used Because it is By me Rarely in the garage - even when I sleep My road is smooth and well-maintained And my flat tires are swiftly changed, if there’re any When we race I sometimes start dead last And I always soar ahead of you You think fifteen minutes is incredible? I’m at seven-point-seven Going on seven flat You think you’re so fast You’re not fast
i wrote this to a specific person but found that it works for plenty more
Going two miles-per-hour you’ll hurt yourself casually, But if you add a zero to that you will be hurt incredibly. Fine day we’re having, sure but the roads do look nasty. No i’m sure it’ll be fine. But little did they know their brains are soon to look like, Well, dead brains.
Speeding two-zero-miles-per-hour, Then in a flash, hearing scorn from Simon Cowl. They’re in **** now, Feeling very dead now. This poem is deteriorating. But it still rhymes. So entertaining.
They are rushing furiously across a danger path. Trying to escape all foes in stark contrast. Light brightly shining their path. Escaping giant demons of wrath.
The day of reckoning is over soon. Precious are the lives of a chosen few. Above and beyond the swarm cries too. Just the fleetest will do.
As they were born above the ground. Crawling toward an evil and also hopeful sound. Across the ground these demons pound. The fault of some they found.
Driving their fleeting heart even more. Kindly they beg the evil and demons who ignore. High in the clouds the evil soar. While the hopeful eyes of many are ready to look toward.
As the demons pass. Steep trouble will find the many at last. High above the evil gathers it’s strength fast. Diving from the sky with speed blast.
Some are plucked from the ground by the evil. It is feast or famine not to cause an upheaval. Soon few of the many will be safe in their home that is primeval. What these fleeting few have been through is unbelievable.