amar qamar

Rookie - 253 Points (Birmingham)

Boy Racer... - Poem by amar qamar

Cigarette in hand, as I cruise along
Relaxing and chilling, full blasting 2pac's song
Their heads pop out the windows they yell and holler
Dressed up, and hyped up, bling round their collar
In their hopeless ritual of trying to score dates.
Chatting and laughing, these are my mates
Wincing with embarrassment, I slide down my seat
A few of them are actually cute, my heart begins to beat
I'm the shy type though… I put my foot down
I speed round the corner, and through the centre of town
Night time is falling, and streets lights get going
Music gets louder, the beats start flowing

WHOOOSH! ! ! ! !
I get overtaken, OMG! ! ! I can't stand for that
Not from a Astra, and on top of that, HIS FAT...
Pedal to the metal. I get up his rear
Revving my engine, my beast I want him to hear
Adrenaline starts to pump, I feel alive
Thinking, yeah baby, this is how to drive
Weaving side to side, he won't let me pass
Changing gear, I slip past him fast
In and out of traffic, we both want to race
I'm too far ahead, his about to give up the chase
I've never lost yet, and I won't today
I rip through the gears… Oh Sh*t! ! ! get out the way! ! !
A couple of kids come on to the street
I try and brake. I press hard on the pedal I slam down my feet
All in slow motion, but still I have to swerve
Smash and bang, I slam into the curve
Roll over twice, and crash into a ditch
Last thoughts are "my dad's going to kill me. sh*t! "

The tear filled eyes of his parents, I can't bare to look
It's been a few weeks, and I'm still a little shook
I get flashbacks, and nightmares of the crash site…
Have hardly slept since that ill-fated night
Now I'm here, and facing his parents, he was only 18
Those dead eyes, the blood, guts, like a horrible movie scene
Head out the front window, a piece of metal embedded deep
My best mate, he sometimes visits me, while I sleep
I blame myself, so does every person I know
Even those who were with me, at the time non said go slow…
They too hate me and accuse me, they've left me deserted
When I walk down the street, their eyes get averted
Abandoned and alone I'm left on my own
No more calls to come out, to chill, no one to phone
To live with my guilt and pain it's what I deserve
There is a place for me in hell now, it's on reserve
My best mates back now, he always comes to chat…
Wants me to join him, tonight I might just do that…


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 28, 2010

Poem Edited: Thursday, November 15, 2012


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