Author's Note: This is just a short poem I wrote at a library meeting. We were celebrating National Poetry Month, which is all through April. I got the theme "twenty-three," and ended up inspired to write this Matt-based piece. In case it isn't obvious, it's basically about his final moments during, and after when he gets shot.
Also, I don't write poetry much, so do forgive me if this is bad.
Thanks for reading!
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x
Twenty-three shots,
Each one another stab of pain,
Forcing its way through my skin,
As I continue to try to stand.
~x~
Twenty-three shots,
Each one making a metallic sound,
As they ricochet off the steel,
Of the bright red door of my car.
~X~
Twenty-three shots,
Each one draining my strength,
As I slump down to the ground,
My cigarette falling from my mouth.
~x~
Twenty-three shots,
Each one a memory,
Lost in the moment,
As life fades away.
~x~
Twenty-three shots,
Each one ringing in my mind,
As my eyes shut slowly,
And I finally stop breathing.
