A driver does a hit and run
Sometime ev'ry day of the year.
Just a quick moment and it's done.
Then forever, the guilt and fear.
The driver joins a lonely club,
Of knowing gnawing all too well,
Unable to escape the rub
Of conscience, keeping life in hell.
Of course with each it is degree,
But no such driver can erase
The ever haunting memory
Of that life changing time and place.
The hit and run begins the time
Of torture for that sin and crime.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like it its uneque