PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Too Much


My dad told me too much never helps.

Any extreme hurts.

“Too much air?”

“Of course. Put your head out the window

and breathe.”

We were driving along the road,

street lamps flashing against the dark.

Windows down.

It was the whirring of the wind.

Wind smothering my mouth, my throat, my lungs.

Windows up.

 
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.