Every Past Had Runs Out Of Gas Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

With tires flat.
And a rusting of its appearance,
Gone to embellish...
With exaggerations reminisced.
Every past had,
Runs out of gas.
No matter who stays to believe,
It only takes...
An updating of an old engine,
To fix.
What is obviously,
Useless.
For the time and days,
We now live.
With them speeding away,
On a daily basis.
Leaving no time to waste,
Being nostalgic.
Or craving the taste,
To renovate the flavor of it!