Stop Sign

Stop sign glows red
The streetlights glaze the road with a thin green light
Black pavement, that's all it is, or ever will be
Cracked, broken, potholes and shattered glass
Rain scatters over its used and abused surface
Somehow it makes it all worth it
Somehow it makes it all worth something

Stop sign glows red
Violent, scorching red
Begs my mind to wonder how I missed it
How I drove into the intersection
Glowing and green, serene and peaceful
Ironic
Glass beats against the side of my face
Like raindrops on the road
Acrid taste in my mouth
Soft hint of strong blood
I felt the metal structure push through me
Moving through my body in ways unnatural

In my final thoughts I comprised this poem
Some people wish their organs donated
But my heart bears no love- useless
But my brain bleeds everything away- useless
But my body is crippled and fragile- useless
No, if I could donate one part of me
It would be my last image
Of a faint green road, glowing in the light
Of the sound of rain on the pavement
Or a stop sign
Violent red

"Sometimes when I consider what tremendous consequences come from little things. I am tempted to think there are no little things." ~Bruce Barton