It Was The Others, Mom
Saw this poem on the internet today. Drink driving is a terrible thing. And this poem, about drink driving, is also a terrible thing.
Son's Last Letter To His Mom.. Will being tears in your eyes
I went to a party Mom,
I remembered what you said.
U told me not to drink,
I really felt proud inside, Mom,
The way you said I would.
I didn't drink and drive, Mom,
Even though the others said I should.
I know I did the right thing, Mom,
I know you are always right.
Now the party is finally ending, Mom,
As everyone is driving out of sight.
As I got into my car, Mom,
I knew I'd get home in one piece.
Because of the way you raised me,
So responsible and sweet.
I started to drive away, Mom,
But as I pulled out into the road,
The other car didn't see me, Mom,
And hit me like a load.
As I lay there on the pavement, Mom,
I hear the policeman say,
"The other guy is drunk," Mom,
And now I'm the one who will pay.
I'm lying here dying, Mom....
I wish you'd get here soon.
How could this happen to me, Mom?
My life just burst like a balloon.
There is blood all around me, Mom,
And most of it is mine.
I hear the medic say, Mom,
I'll die in a short time.
I just wanted to tell you, Mom,
I swear I didn't drink.
It was the others, Mom.
The others didn't think.
He was probably at the same party as I.
The only difference is, he drank
And I will die.
Why do people drink, Mom?
It can ruin your whole life.
I'm feeling sharp pains now.
Pains just like a knife.
The guy who hit me is walking, Mom,
And I don't think it's fair.
I'm lying here dying
And all he can do is stare.
Tell my brother not to cry, Mom.
Tell Daddy to be brave.
And when I go to heaven, Mom,
Put "GOOD BOY " on my grave.
Someone should have told him, Mom,
Not to drink and drive.
If only they had told him, Mom,
I would still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter, Mom.
I'm becoming very scared.
Please don't cry for me, Mom.
When I needed you, you were always there.
I have one last question, Mom.
Before I say good bye.
I didn't drink and drive,
So why am I the one to die?
After Reading this letter few have quit drinking and many have quit habbit of "DRINK & DRIVE". Did You read he said "Someone should have told him, Mom".
Please "SHARE" this wall post if not for that innocent guy who died then at least for that mother who lost her SON.
Now.
I have questions.
When did the son write this letter?
While he was dying in front of the world's most hands-off medic?
"Hello son, you're going to die quite soon. Any requests?"
"Pen and paper, please, sir. I need to write a letter, in rhyming couplets, repeatedly explaining to my mother that, though I died in an alcohol related collision, I was not the one who was drinking. It was some other guy, some guy who'd been at the party, I guess. I didn't catch his name."
Policeman: "The other guy is drunk."
"See! The other guy. Not me, Mom. God, there's so much blood around here and, I'm sorry to say, most of it is mine. Not all of it though. No idea who the other blood belongs to, or how I can tell it from my own. But I can. I just can.
You know, I felt really proud inside to be drinking soda at the party, Mom. I know you said I would but I didn't believe you. I thought it was a weird thing to say, actually. But at the party, as I watched everyone consuming beer - even that one guy whose name I didn't catch - I did feel proud. Proud to be drinking carbonated water and corn syrup in the kitchen on my own. But pride comes before a fall, Mom, and fall I did - under the wheels of that drink driving guy whom I vaguely recognise.
He hit me like a load. I'm not going to specify a load of anything in particular. Just imagine it's a heavy load. The sort of load that if it hit you wouldn't do you any good at all. Logs, or something. Maybe a couple of sofas stacked on top of each other, secured with rope. Old fashioned ones, with metal springs. Heavy wooden frames. Mahogany. That's a heavy wood.
Just going to draw a sad face emoji on the letter. I don't trust my words to fully convey the sadness of the situation.
Gah! Blood on the letter now. Some of it is deffo not mine.
My life has burst like a balloon. Mom.
Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life. Though I'm aware of the irony here. I don't even understand the concept of drinking and yet, here I am, nearly dead, according to the first medical professional on the scene, and that guy who was drinking is fine. I don't even think its his blood mixing with mine. I don't know where that blood has come from. To be fair, it's a bit hectic at the moment.
Tell my brother and Dad not to grieve, okay? I wouldn't want them to be sad just cause I'm dead. Dad's busy. He can't waste his time on feelings. He's putting a tarp roof on the smoke-house. I'll never see that smoke-house roof now. I'll bet it'll be great. Mom, you're a woman. I'll leave the grieving to you. Woman are so good at just soaking up and filtering emotional trauma. You'll make it nice for Dad and brother. Can't remember his name. I want to say Randall. But it's not Randall. No one is called Randall.
One request. Could you put the words "good boy" on my gravestone. Like a dog would enjoy, yes. People need to know I was a good boy and that I didn't drink at the party, which I didn't. Definitely not. I know "the good boy doth protest too much" but I didn't. They found alcohol in my blood? That was the OTHER blood, not mine. I don't know how that blood got there. Dirty blood.
Anyway, getting short of breath so I better sign off, just one last "Why am I the one to die?", and I AM OUT OF HERE. I mean, I guess the moral is, it doesn't matter how sober and careful you are, some other dick is just going to ruin it for you anyway. The world is full of stupid assholes, Mom. Oh, what a world! I'm melting, I'm melting...ha ha not really. That's from The Wizard of Oz. The Witch, when she dies...
Feeling sharp pains now, pains just like a knife.
Would inflict. The pain isn't like a knife in and of itself. For one thing, I can't get a handle on it. Ha ha.
Ow.
Take care,
Your good boy,
Mark.
P.S. It was the others, Mom. "
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