>Truck

>It was a Monday that a
Truck.
(the headlights, I will not forget)
crashed into the driver’s side
I know my son, he must have cried
off my shoulders my head flied
and the windsheild it met.

My son, from the back seat.
Screamed.
A scream I would never hear.
Never, ever, this I fear.
No longer do I have an ear.
That part of me is creamed.

The firemen came with jaws of life.
Late.
No hate I feel for them, they tried their best.
They saved my son from the metal nest.
That pierced me roughly through my chest
So I have met my fate.

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About flaminglog

I am a novelist, a poet, and a musician. I love to create things. That is who I am. Who are you? (I'd love to meet you.)
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