THANKS A LOT!
You'll have forgotten it by now.
The grass will soon grow again.
It isn't as though you've inflicted
Any permanent sort of pain.
I guess that you are masculine
And under twenty-five;
I certainly know you have a car
Which you dearly love to drive.
'Yippee! I am so Macho!'
Surely those words rang out
As you zoomed across our median strip
When nobody was about.
In the early hours you did it,
While everybody slept,
Proving yourself to be a dolt,
Youthful, gung-ho, inept.
What future will you go on to?
A crash, a crazy crime?
Or will you become an adult
Just in the nick of time?
The scars on the grass will vanish,
As all such injuries do.
But what I worry about the most
Is the 'injury' to YOU.
Of course, you'll never read this!
I doubt if you can read!
But the thought of this wanton behaviour
Really makes my old heart bleed!
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