Driving a broken car causes crashes.

Memories like the material piecing the interior and exterior together, slowly deteriorating, falling apart, forgotten about, left there to be a reminder of your past. But instead, completely forgotten, but still engraved into the heart.  Like how you carve two initials deeply into the bark of the tree, surrounded by a carved heart  to never be forgotten, but still slips through your fingers like the soil from the earth. Like every hand full of soil you walk upon, on those long lonely walks where your soul becomes reminded of those brief moments that never felt brief in the moment, not at all. Where you could feel every feeling of the cold soil in the creases of your pawns falling, feeling so grateful and horrifying at the same time. But like all cars, the wheels always tend to fall off towards the end of its last good ride, without these cars we could never learn how to drive, how to feel scared, how to be safer, cars like this make it easier on you to find the car that is truly right for you. As bad as you really wish you could keep the car you first had, had all your experiences in, it’s not safe, its hard to leave this car, feeling the guilt of getting out. However, never leaving this car, the doors would have rusted traveling to the locks, until the rust slowly reached the steering wheel, and you no longer have control of being able to leave, you can no longer leave. Tell you drive right into the cold ocean forever sitting in the soaked seats that use to be so nice to sit it and the windows you would look out of in hope of a beautiful future with this car that now has drug you to the deepest point of no return.  Where not even yourself can save you, this is a selfish car, this broken car, it can’t let go of you, it’s a hurting car, it will never stop hurting and your presents will never help the hurt, it will only spread this hurt to you.  Like a twisted broken love that your heart yearns to heal.