The car stalls.
And...
Wheels on it seems corrupted,
By a collection of dust...
No one has thought,
To have ever cleaned...
The build up of muck,
That has it stuck.
Rusted, busted but will not give up,
Are those riding inside...
Demanding from the driver,
To push!
While those riding inside decide,
If it is to their benefit...
To assist the driver,
With either a push or a pull.
OR...
Maybe someone should consider,
Perhaps there is a need for gas.
And...
Who should pay the price.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem