Microbus

The way it was made was stellar

but it look more like a broken propeller

with people stuck inside and someone banging on the door

the constant shout and screeches  of those travelling inside my head

A constant routine but a new head ache every day

For what it matters I try to be fond of it

but then it makes much lesser sense for the times

I try to get by via a dream in my head

Cotton streets and lollipop rides

katy perry hair colored skies

and snoop dogg/lion songs run in the back

and someone is frantically singing about the beauty of chaos

My dreams have become a lost cause

microbus rides

the way we get by,

my dreams have become no better than honking buses

and someone frantically singing about the beauty of chaos

 

 

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