Into the maw of darkness,
the boy racer sped
trying the chase the dreams
that spun around his head.
Trying to empress his friends
with the driving skills, he never had.
His three friends yelled
as excitement filled their minds
as they charged into the darkness
all without a care.
The rain came down in torrents
and still he sped on
oblivious to the dangers
if he did not slow down.
As the visibility lowered
the boy racer’s speed increased.
He could out run this
was all that was on his mind.
The wall appeared in front of them,
fear gripped everyone,
and there was no turning back,
not at ninety miles an hour.
Within a second, they were gone,
the damage forever done.
They dragged out their bodies
after the body bags had arrived
or at least what was left of them.
Another tragic accident
where in unskilled hands
speed got the better of them.
At the funeral there were few
because this one boy racer
had killed his friends too.
One-day youngsters will learn,
but only when it is too late
speed can kill all
who want to play with it.
23 November 2009
But on the road the speed becomes more sweet..... I'm sorry - that he did not' hasten slowly'... and.... Boy Racer - the fan of speed- has finished his road fatally... Also that others were lost too.... 10......... Tsira
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Strong poignant piece. I had a friend who was involved in an accident when he was very young. He was the only survivor. The boy racers tend to use their cars as a status symbol, or a passion wagon. They feel that speed belongs to them, and that they are in complete control. A car is far safer in mature and more experienced hands. They have to pay massive insurance premiums, but the only winners are the insurance companies. I liked your slant on this one David. Best Steve 10