“The Crash” + “Firing Squad” poetry

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Firing Squad

I stand here
with a rifle in my hand
I look up at the people
lined up at the ruined wall

They all stare at the dirt
some shaking
some not
but all of them know their fate

As I raise my gun
to complete this terrible deed
one looks up
and stares in horror

As the firing begins
I do not pull the trigger
I lower my gun
and stare at the carnage

I make myself look at each body
each face
to see what I could have stopped
but did not

I look at the final faces
and stop
I see them
see what I have done

I fall to my knees
and my comrades back away
for they know why I do this
they know what they have done

They know that they have destroyed him
destroyed his soul, his life
because among those lifeless faces
are the faces of his family

As they watch him weep
they have to look away
each wishing that it could have been different
but it could not be

So they walk away
leaving their friend to his grief
leaving with their own guilt
and with their own regrets

The Crash

It’s a quiet night
when the roads are clear
one car drives in the wrong lane
and meets another.

The squeal of skidding wheels
the crash of two cars
the screams of the passengers
and then the silence of death.

Now a father
kneels in front of a bed
a bed that holds his son
and prays for his life.

As the doctor walks in
the father looks up in hope
but the doctor just shakes his head
and the father begins to weep

A man standing outside a room
calling his best friends parents
calling to tell them of their daughter
who died on scene.

So as the news crew crowd in
the father weeps
the man falls on an empty bench
with his head in his hands

And fate is thick all around them.

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