Your body fell, so slowly. Your fingers splayed out in a feeble attempt to keep yourself from hitting the concrete. An expression of disbelief crossed your delicated features, only to be replaced by a clenched face of pain. I ran and fell to my knees, not knowing what to do, and held your hand as your life stained the already dirty sidewalk. Men with bags of medical miracles swooped down and snatched you away from me-- then screamed down the road with the terrible cargo as I was left, still kneeling in your blood.
Reason for writing:
I saw my best friend get shot, and he died two weeks later. I've written many stories and poems about this, and it's helped more than anything. Besides, it's cheaper and more effective than therapy. :)
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Sharon Chester (gemini).