The car is on fire
And he is still inside.
Oh God! I hear him screaming,
He’s burning burned alive.
I can’t see where he’s
Cause there’s blood in my eyes.
I think my head is bleeding,
I shouldn’t have let him drink and drive.
I’m trying to wipe away the blood,
He’s crying to me for help.
The car is upside down
And he’s trapped in his seatbelt.
I’m too close to the fire,
My sweat is starting to boil.
I think the gas is leaking
And soaking all the soil.
Jesus, I smell his flesh burning
I think I’m going to be sick.
I can hear his skin popping
He doesn’t deserve this!
Thank goodness he finally stop screaming
His suffering is over.
I guess by the pain in my chest,
My agony will be much slower.
The paramedics show up
And I begin to cough up blood.
They say the wound’s infected
Cause it’s swelling and covered in mud.
The pain is getting unbearable
I don’t think that I can take it.
I hear the paramedic shout,
“I don’t think she’s going to make! ”
The news sends shivers down my spine
As I begin to beg and cry,
“Please help me, I’m only 17
And I don’t want to die…”
But than death steps in
And has the last word.
The End.
lou shandra wright
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/regrets-9/
And he is still inside.
Oh God! I hear him screaming,
He’s burning burned alive.
I can’t see where he’s
Cause there’s blood in my eyes.
I think my head is bleeding,
I shouldn’t have let him drink and drive.
I’m trying to wipe away the blood,
He’s crying to me for help.
The car is upside down
And he’s trapped in his seatbelt.
I’m too close to the fire,
My sweat is starting to boil.
I think the gas is leaking
And soaking all the soil.
Jesus, I smell his flesh burning
I think I’m going to be sick.
I can hear his skin popping
He doesn’t deserve this!
Thank goodness he finally stop screaming
His suffering is over.
I guess by the pain in my chest,
My agony will be much slower.
The paramedics show up
And I begin to cough up blood.
They say the wound’s infected
Cause it’s swelling and covered in mud.
The pain is getting unbearable
I don’t think that I can take it.
I hear the paramedic shout,
“I don’t think she’s going to make! ”
The news sends shivers down my spine
As I begin to beg and cry,
“Please help me, I’m only 17
And I don’t want to die…”
But than death steps in
And has the last word.
The End.
lou shandra wright
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/regrets-9/
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Music