bluedevil6
June 5th, 2012, 10:04 PM
This is a ... poem (?) I wrote a bit ago. I dunno if it's a poem. More like ...prose? I don't know. Just read, if you want to. And comments would be nice - constructive criticism is always appreciated! And, if you read this in your head, read it in a Southern accent. I don't know why. I just always pictured it in a Southern town. :P
And. This story is based off of true events - a young boy was hit by a truck in my neighborhood and was killed. He was riding a blue bike.
The Blue Bike
There was once a little boy who owned a blue bike.
He was always riding it, that bike.
He rode it everywhere - church, school, and just for rides goin' nowhere.
The blue bike was his friend, his faithful companion.
It took him where he needed to go and it never let him down.
The tires on the bike squeaked a bit when they turned, but the boy
loved it.
He loved that sound.
The sound of the tires turning beneath him.
One day, the little boy came across a road.
The little boy didn't quite look before he pushed the blue bike
onward.
(BANG! SMASH! CRASH!)
Oh those horrible sounds.
Those people screamin'.
(Oh! God! Did you see that!? That truck just ... oh god. OH GOD!)
That grievin' mother, blaming God for what He took from her.
(My poor baby! Why!? WHY DO THIS TO ME!? Why, God!? WHY!?)
And the blue bike lies twisted in the road-
its wheels turning.
Still squeaking.
And. This story is based off of true events - a young boy was hit by a truck in my neighborhood and was killed. He was riding a blue bike.
The Blue Bike
There was once a little boy who owned a blue bike.
He was always riding it, that bike.
He rode it everywhere - church, school, and just for rides goin' nowhere.
The blue bike was his friend, his faithful companion.
It took him where he needed to go and it never let him down.
The tires on the bike squeaked a bit when they turned, but the boy
loved it.
He loved that sound.
The sound of the tires turning beneath him.
One day, the little boy came across a road.
The little boy didn't quite look before he pushed the blue bike
onward.
(BANG! SMASH! CRASH!)
Oh those horrible sounds.
Those people screamin'.
(Oh! God! Did you see that!? That truck just ... oh god. OH GOD!)
That grievin' mother, blaming God for what He took from her.
(My poor baby! Why!? WHY DO THIS TO ME!? Why, God!? WHY!?)
And the blue bike lies twisted in the road-
its wheels turning.
Still squeaking.