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Just Think ‘Bout It

I don’t know how old you are, but I’m only 11 years old, and driving is one of the things I think about a lot when I think about getting older.  But, after reading the poem below, I better understand what my mom has been telling me about growing up, making choices, and how my choices not only affect my life but the lives of others, too.

The poem that comes next is very sad and may be a little disturbing to read.  But for me, it made me think really deep and I will never forget the lesson.  I hope you feel the same.  Just think ‘bout it.

“My Dear Mom, I Didn’t Drink & Drive……”

I went to a party Mom, I remembered what you said. You told me not to drink, Mom, So I drank soda instead.

I really felt proud inside, Mom, The way you said I would. I didn’t drink and drive, Mom, Even though the others said I should.

I know I did the right thing, Mom, I know you are always right. Now the party is finally ending, Mom, As everyone is driving out of sight.

As I got into my car, Mom, I knew I’d get home in one piece. Because of the way you raised me, So responsible and sweet.

I started to drive away, Mom, But as I pulled out into the road, The other car didn’t see me, Mom, And hit me like a load.

As I lay there on the pavement, Mom, I hear the policeman say, “The other guy is drunk,” Mom, And now I’m the one who will pay.

I’m lying here dying, Mom…. I wish you’d get here soon. How could this happen to me, Mom? My life just burst like a balloon.

There is blood all around me, Mom, And most of it is mine. I hear the medic say, Mom, I’ll die in a short time.

I just wanted to tell you, Mom, I swear I didn’t drink. It was the others, Mom. The others didn’t think.

He was probably at the same party as I. The only difference is, he drank; I didn’t…. And I will die.

Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life. I’m feeling sharp pains now. Pains just like a knife.

The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, And I don’t think it’s fair. I’m lying here dying And all he can do is stare.

Tell my brother not to cry, Mom. Tell Daddy to be brave. And when I go to heaven, Mom, Put “GOOD BOY ” on my grave.

Someone should have told him, Mom, Not to drink and drive. If only they had told him, Mom, I would still be alive.

My breath is getting shorter, Mom. I’m becoming very scared. Please don’t cry for me, Mom. When I needed you, you were always there.

I have one last question, Mom. Before I say goodbye. I didn’t drink and drive, So why am I the one to die?

A special thanks to Serena Rumman for sharing this poem with me and changing my life forever.

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