I make my stops, and cruise along.
A normal day for a bus,
The busyness overwhelms me,
Still, I keep traveling along my route,
Last stop, I pick up a man,
Just another passenger to me,
Unaware of what is under his shirt,
I drive away,
Seconds later shrapnel starts flying,
Time slows down, while people are dying,
A shockwave has been sent leaving families crying,
I lay in pieces on the street,
I know this isn't right,
Why must these people continue to fight?
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I really liked the point of view. It made it different and unqui.
ReplyDeletei like the ryming in the lines where it says flying and dying add nice rythm to the paper
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