'' Talking Bus Stops Are Not That Rare '' Poem by Bri Mar

The bus stop wavered from side to side,
From the driving rain I couldn’t hide,
I said your behaviour I cannot bide,
Your swaying isn’t fair.

The bus stop said you don’t look well,
If I asked what’s wrong would you tell,
I immediately told him to go to hell,
He then exclaimed he didn’t care.

The bus stop said you’re bloody weird
Perhaps your head needs to be cleared,
This was worse than I had feared,
Of insanity I wasn’t aware.

The bus stop shouted don’t piss on me,
Please hold on to your liquid debris,
If you get caught you’ll pay a fee,
It’s enough to make one swear.

The bus stop glass I then shattered,
All around me the people scattered,
I thought that I was all that mattered,
From me they had to beware.

The bus stop wasn’t moving at all,
Someone had given the police a call,
My god was I heading for a fall,
All around me were having a good stare.

The bus stop to the police attested,
That I the innocent should be arrested,
His despicable behaviour I detested,
It was now I felt despair.

The bus stop talking made me think,
With madness there must be a link,
Or perhaps I’ve had too much drink,
For the asylum I need to prepare.

That bus stop gave me so much grief,
My trial well it was really brief,
The judge said son it may come as a relief,

‘’ Talking Bus Stops Are Not That Rare ‘’