Your Four Tires Poem by Tony Avila Sampson

You have made me so very fierce,
So your car tires, I now will pierce;

To find you car then, yes I must
Tire by tire, my knife to thrust;

With an ice pick, should I swing,
From your tires, be some air leaking;

They may even give a 'hissssss',
All four tires, I will not miss;

Loudly can the tire blast,
Loss of air will be so fast;

A loud 'pop' might be the sound,
Quick, your rims will hit the ground;

And each tire I give a blow,
Will make the sound of air letting go;

May even give 'em a second slice,
Cause you'll be paying the replacement price;

Them four tires, I can so easily stick,
And you won't catch me, I'll do it quick;

It's your four tires that I plan to poke,
And I want you to know this is no joke.