The New Red Car: Epilogue-a Revolutionary Poetic tragedy

“Dad! You’re F*#ing Crazy!”
“Curl up and die!”
No car is worth that.
Death.
Venom spat.

I’d rather bus or walk
than drive that car again!
I’m not giving in.
They don’t win.
I’m telling them:
take the damn car.

It doesn’t matter!
What makes me sadder
is they don’t know
they haven’t won, but lost.
And at what cost
the tragedy
of stupidity.
I don’t think they know.
Only me.

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