On the four way intersection of that narrow road,

In came the bus, recklessly turning,

Eerily scraping along the side,

Of my pride and joy,

Mirror hanging by a thread,

I stumble from the car,

Thankful I am not dead.

Falling to the ground, tears abound,

The last piece of who I was shattered,

Demolished in one moment.

Time to start anew, time to push through.

I take one last glance, at the awful circumstance.

A jolt snaps me to, back to this day,

Back to the paramedics carting me away,

Playing their tune of wailing sirens,

Carrying me to a hospital to check my vitals,

And ensure that nothing could be wrong.

The jolting of the round brings awareness to my neck.

Ah heck! Who am I to complain,

When others have it far worse than I?

-C. Friedman

Thanks for reading.


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