Hello, sir. Remember me?
I’m the girl you killed last Wednesday.
I was twelve years old. Thirteen today.
But it’s my funeral, I’m tucked away
Inside my coffin, with a flower bouquet
Mom’s crying at the sad display
I was walking home from school
You were drunk, more’s the fool
I crossed the road, you hit the fuel
My ending was painful, folks call it cruel
I hope you feel guilt to the end of your days
And beyond, until to heaven you’re raised
And when you are asked to sing your own praise
I hope you falter under their gaze
Goodbye, sir, remember me well
I’m the girl you ran over last Wednesday.
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