WARNING MAY TRIGGER OTHERS: My first poem

The beautiful silver-grayish car drives across the light tanish road up down, left right even diagonal. With the ground turning it too tar because of how hard the tires run against the ground, as you sit back and smile while smelling burnt rubber. There's a knock at the door. You quickly snap back into the real world you notice the silver grayish car was not a car but a razor you realize the light tanish road was not a road but your skin, you realize the tar was not tar but your blood , you realize that the burnt rubber smell was not what it seemed instead it was your blood smelling like rotting raw irony flesh. You cry as if someone hurt physically which they did but it was more mental than anything. But wait you realize that knock was not just a knock it was the sound of your mother being slung around as if she was a sack of potatoes but she wasn't she was the lady who swore to protect you from her and others but she forgot onething. She needed to protect you from yourself.