My head met the pavement,
bouncing up and down,
you stood there watching me,
drowning and choking on my blood.
It dripped down my cheeks,
like a rush down a waterfall,
a sweet and sour taste,
infected bacteria on the street.
I couldn't tell if you were crying,
from hysteric laughter of my demise,
or a cry from the fear of what you just saw,
but walking away only meant one thing:
you're always going to turn your back on the ones you loved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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