May 12th, 2014,
there was a boy.
one thing lead to another,
as it always does,
and,
May 13th, 2014
there was no longer a boy.
there was a body
but there was a body before
an empty body now
well what are bodies suppose to contain?
im not an expert but afterwards there was blood
(so much blood it looked like the whole city was running rust out of its bones)
and devastation
(like when you realise everything you had was with them)
and some skin scratched into the pavement
(he never knew what hit him)
he left some teeth and a few friends
(at least he didnt have to swallow their grief)
a terrible accident, and the news was spilt all over
"poor kid, wasn't his time"
spilt like a jug of milk,
like his life over that windshield,
"aint nothin' to cry over"
everything was cleaned up by noon
"whats the big deal? this shit happens even more even worse"
May 14th 2014
there was a boy,
maybe two boys,
one thing lead to another,
as it always does.
YOU ARE READING
how to not die alone(on hold)
Poetryin this act i attempt to write ¿poems? i think,
