It Wasn't My Fault

8 AM

The road is closed.

Cars come to a halt.

I hear angry drivers watching, cursing me,

But what happened wasn’t my fault.


I’m sorry they had a detour,

But God knows so did I,

As I lay beside my flattened car,

Preparing my goodbyes.




7 AM

Driving down the road,

High-beamed headlights in my eyes,

Two cars coming toward me; racing,

Swerving side to side.


I guess they didn’t see me,

I guess my car horn wasn’t loud,

Because they didn’t seem to notice,

Until they saw me on the ground.


The drivers, they were fine,

They surrounded me in tears.

I couldn’t hear them, I couldn’t move,

But the drivers reeked of beer.


Alcohol. I smell Alcohol.

As I’m fading, beginning to fall.
Tell my mother that I love her,

And that what happened wasn’t my fault.

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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