|Posted by ROADwhyz on January 2, 2012 at 5:50 PM|
I wrote this poem long ago, not knowing exactly what I should do with it.
I saw a TV programme outlining your cause and what you do. I thought then, I think
this is where my poem will maybe do some good.
I cannot take full credit for the poem, as it I based it on something I had read in the
70's. Maybe written by someone like me and never recorded anywhere.
I realise it is confronting but if it makes just one person stop and think, then I am quite happy for you to use it
You had good intentions of not driving your car
You also had good intentions of not entering that last bar.
One more drink with friends who said “It wont kill you,mate”
Unintentionally and stupidly, you sealed your own fate.
You’re laying on the road now with strangers around you.
Arriving are cars, with lights flashing, red and blue
A paramedic check for signs of life, and shakes his head
Your lifeless body, is part of his job, he’s come to dread
You are now being referred to as “The deceased”
As you lay on the wet, cold road all bloodied and creased
You are placed into a van, the doors latched down.
Now you begin your journey to “The loneliest room in town”
They are waiting for you, at the loneliest room
It is as cold and sterile, as a tomb
There, you are stripped, tagged and hosed down
All part of the service, at the loneliest room in town.
Soon your visitor will arrive
Someone who knew you, when you were alive
The silence of the loneliest room is pierced by a cry
Of a mother screaming “That’s my son, why did he die?”
Before you are tempted to drive, full of drink
Take a moment to stop and to think
Is it worth driving, after skulling that last drink down?
Is it really worth the ride, to the loneliest room in town?