People change when they are behind a wheel.
They change from being polite into animals
it makes me want to squeal.
When they pull out or don’t indicate at all
It makes me so annoyed and I have to blow my horn.
I swear and curse and blow my top.
Oh, sorry, I think it’s me, so,
I better stop
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem