Lying in the Street

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  • Death
    • PurposedPoet
    • trying to finish these stories and write more poetry!

    Lying in the Street

    Dark's closing all around me
    I can barely breathe
    My heartbeat's getting slower
    It's getting harder for me to think
    Who would do this to me?
    An innocent child on the streets
    Someone ran me over
    And didn't even blink
    The next thing I know
    I'm sprawled out on the avenue
    My body's getting cold
    My life's been put on hold
    In a minute I'll be gone
    And no one would know
    A drunk driver hit me
    And went on zooming down the road
    Everything I've done
    All the mistakes I've learned from
    Won't matter soon
    I can't even move
    One thing we should understand--
    Drunk driving can overtake any man
    You think you're sober enough
    You can keep it under control
    But in truth you're so drunk
    That you end up on the other side of the road
    Hitting a teenager walking home from practice
    But you keep going 'cause you don't realize what happened
    Then next thing, a young boy's lying on the concrete
    Praying to God, saying "Just take me."
    'Cause a drunk driver hit him
    As he was walking down the road
    Realizing that he'll never see life
    Past 15 years old
    And the man responsible drives away free
    Never ever wondering, "What if it were me?"
    No, he just keeps going, never looking back
    And by the time he's gone a mile
    The body's a lifeless wreck
    Before I breathe my last few words
    Listen teenage boys and girls
    Don't drink and drive
    Take away someone's life
    It could very well be you someday
    So put down the bottle and walk away
    Take it from a dead boy, lying in the streets
    It happened to me
    But for what's about to come, I feel no shame
    I say a silent goodbye as my life begins to fade
    I know it wasn't my fault
    Now my breathing's slowing down and I'm thinking last little thoughts
    Wishing I was back home with my family
    And saying to myself, "At least it wasn't me."

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    PurposedPoet’s Poems (18)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    The Truth 1
    Michael's Poem 0
    Mary 0
    Stained 0
    Carl 0
    To Not Be Me 1
    Courage! 0
    Angel 0
    Uncommon 0
    Pearls and Diamonds 2
    Darkness 0
    Memories 0
    You're Always There 0
    A Minute or Two 0
    He Has Made Everything Beautiful 0
    High School 0
    Lying in the Street 0
    Dedication to Coach Alvarez 0