You broke my car like you broke my heart's engine.
You made it so it won't turn over.
My heart.
My engine.
My automotive strength.
It once flowed with the oils you cared enough to lubricate with.
But now I'm bone dry.
My engine rotten and rusty.
I cannot turn over.
Not without spark plugs.
I hear they're too expensive for you to buy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem