“Just a Dream”

Sophie Burchill

 

When I was young

I knew I was going to be an artist.

 

Someone who took their craft seriously

And worked their hardest.

 

I’d draw, paint,

Sleep, eat and repeat.

 

When it came to my passion

I’d never skip a beat.

 

I wouldn’t crush my dream

Even for a million dollars.

 

I’d rather be on the streets

Than have a white collar.

 

I knew there would be ups

And downs alike,

 

But I didn’t expect such treachery to occur

On one fateful night.

 

I was a good kid

That never thought to harm.

 

At least I didn’t think my car

Could be used as a firearm.

 

I had heard news of a fatal car accident

Caused by a drunk driver.

 

The cars were destroyed

Without a single survivor.

 

I didn’t think much of it

Because it would never happen to me.

 

As I said, I was a good kid

Not just a somebody.

 

I almost always said “no” to parties and drinks

I never cared for that skunk smelling stink.

 

But this time I obliged and went along for the show.

This was not going to end well, little did I know.

 

We stayed for an hour as I took on a keg

I felt woozy and later found a needle in my leg.

 

I had a class at eight and it was already twelve.

I had my car and we could take care of ourselves.

 

Down the straight road a little over ninety

I looked back to see a blue flash behind me

And without looking forward again

I brought two peoples’ lives to an end.

 

All I saw for years were bars and blood

Not to mention the scraps of life buried in mud.

 

A little girl on her way home from a friend’s house.

“I guess she had a nightmare,” said the dead father’s spouse.

 

She too had a dream of becoming an artist.

Her mother said she always worked her hardest.

 

She’d draw, paint,

Sleep, eat and repeat.

 

When it came to her passion

She’d never skip a beat.

 

She was nine

And I, eighteen.

 

Why did I get to live?

Instead of being dead on the scene…

 

… In reality for me

This is just a dream.

 

But for some

This is all that it seems.

 

Some have taken a life or two

That will never come back.

 

The sentencing will be harsh

But flashbacks will never lack.

 

This doesn’t have to be the case though

Even if you don’t have a dream.

 

Help prevent innocent deaths

From becoming part of a common theme.