I died last night.
All I could think about was you.
As I was lying there in my own blood groggy and hurting, watching my mother cry and my boyfriend trying not to pound your face in
I felt sorry for YOU.

Didn't anyone ever tell you not to drink and drive? Don't your parents care about you at all. They were there too, of course.
Their glances shifting from you to my makeshift deathbed on the concrete. I don't know how they could take it. Watching their only son being fitted into handcuffs. Even in my state, I cringed for you.

At a police demonstration in 4th grade, I had worn handcuffs. It was of my own freewill and just for fun, but as soon as I let the officer do it, I started to cry. The unforgving metal bracelets piched the fine hairs on my arms and made me feel trapped. Now you are trapped and I'd do anything to stop it.

I would make them take pity on you. "No one ever told him not to drink and drive" I'd say. "Please forgive him!" I'd scream.

But I can not help you.
I died last night.