adidas_man
Honorary Honda Driver
years ago i had seen this poem online. so i wrote it down and stored it away. well the other day i was going through all of my old crap and found it, and thought i should share it.
Jasmine
Just like a beautiful Jasmine blossom, we treat our cars like a fragile thing. We give them care and attention, much of our waking hours are spent taking care of and making them beautiful for ourselves. We take pride in the compliments that people give us. Not knowing that some are just jealous that they too cannot put the time and effort into creating such a beautiful machine blossom from nothingness. Out of ordinary everyday cars, we transform our pains and sacrifices, into our pride and joys. But the beauty is somewhat overwhelming, the constant attention required is often tiring. We try, but we cannot stand a constant vigil over our works. In the quiet hours of the morning on many occasions, or midday; time never matters. Theives take no holidays. They have no breaks. They only know how to steal. F*ckin low life n*ggas that don't deserve to be in this world. They are the product of f*cked up parenting, being a peice of sh*t from the day they were born. But they are better than they think. For they not only take our material possesions, but the heart and soul of our lives. We love our cars, but like any love, do not take it for granted. We unfortunately live in an area where the darkness is overwhelming. Left alone in the dark it will become someone elses prize. Peoples eyes become fixated as our flowers bloom and show themselves off. Don't forget that each one of those eyes has a black center, no matter what color may surround it. In the morning sun, in the city lights, even in the pouring rain, a Jasmine is a very delicate, very beautiful, very takeable good.
Anonymous
Jasmine
Just like a beautiful Jasmine blossom, we treat our cars like a fragile thing. We give them care and attention, much of our waking hours are spent taking care of and making them beautiful for ourselves. We take pride in the compliments that people give us. Not knowing that some are just jealous that they too cannot put the time and effort into creating such a beautiful machine blossom from nothingness. Out of ordinary everyday cars, we transform our pains and sacrifices, into our pride and joys. But the beauty is somewhat overwhelming, the constant attention required is often tiring. We try, but we cannot stand a constant vigil over our works. In the quiet hours of the morning on many occasions, or midday; time never matters. Theives take no holidays. They have no breaks. They only know how to steal. F*ckin low life n*ggas that don't deserve to be in this world. They are the product of f*cked up parenting, being a peice of sh*t from the day they were born. But they are better than they think. For they not only take our material possesions, but the heart and soul of our lives. We love our cars, but like any love, do not take it for granted. We unfortunately live in an area where the darkness is overwhelming. Left alone in the dark it will become someone elses prize. Peoples eyes become fixated as our flowers bloom and show themselves off. Don't forget that each one of those eyes has a black center, no matter what color may surround it. In the morning sun, in the city lights, even in the pouring rain, a Jasmine is a very delicate, very beautiful, very takeable good.
Anonymous
