“Get mad.”
“Get even.”
“Get paid.”
They ask me,
“How can you be so calm?”
It’s a fucking car for Christ’s sake.
People with poor manners steal.
I don’t want them punished,
because I could give a shit about their rehabilitation.
They are never going to see it my way,
that I mortgaged years of my life to pay for this item.
They have already stolen enough from me,
I won’t let them have a second more.
My indifference to these humans
is surely part of the problem.
As much as I don’t believe in or care about their ability to change,
I, don’t feel like changing either.
So give the wheel another spin.
Drinkers with Writing Problems
Literature by the Lit Up