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.