Curled Up On The Curb

A lump in the throat

A shattered, wrecked boat

A 9 a.m wake up

An etcha-sketch shake up

All over the ground and around the town

Driver drops and everything stops

Sounds of sirens, para-medics and cops.

A fragile and frightened metaphor lays curled up on the curb

Fearful words of oil and slaughter

There on the road lays somebody’s daughter

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