Honda

It had to be a fucking honda

The #1 car in town
Those backseats
Those marks on me
That's where it all went down

 

Now when I drive and see,
A stupid piece of shit that was leased for free,
By your parents no less,
Who always seemed to stress,

About the importance of keeping your miles down.

So I drove us all around,
In my shitty beattle,
With shitty sound.

 

Remember that time where my windows were stuck.
We used my gas, my miles,
Well, just my luck.

We hit rain and we talked about
“What do we do now?”

Lets see,
We’ll just blame it all on me.

Still, you never knew,
That material had a hold on you.

Because all that really mattered,
Was the thing that could be tattered.

 

So i sat on a towel to not sweat into the seats.
So i used a coaster for all of my drinks.
So i didn’t lean up against the side.
So i didn’t make finger prints eyed.

 

But all it was, was a fucking honda,

Of course, it seems to haunt me,
Because a plain common first car was all I see.

Now that your gone,
I have to tell them im moving along,

But that fucking honda won’t let me be,
Because you treasured it more than me.

Though it was an obsession,
Just to get in a certain direction,

It was just a fucking honda,
Not even known for speed.

But you talked about how eco mode worked,
And how sport mode had you smirked.

Common please, have a little dignity.
I know your a wanna be,
But all you need to know,
That its not the sports mode,

Making that car as popular as it seems.

Its the mid-size convenience,
And I know you think its seemless,

But its not even a fucking SUV.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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