Gone.

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Daddy. Your Gone. Your royal blue truck that I used to ride the backseat in. It’s gone. All the loud bumpin’ music. Gone. The gravelly sound of your voice when on the phone. Gone. Those late night drives down the street On a 35 but you’re going 50. Gone. Daddy. Did you ever care that you could lose your life, but let alone take someone else’s? Did you ever stop to think to turn down your music, put down your phone, or even slow down? Daddy, I was always in the backseat while you were driving recklessly. How would you feel if I was the one gone? How would you feel that you could have taken someone else’s life? But the bad thing is; you did. Daddy. Your gone. I’m at your grave sight wishing you were here. But you’re gone. I hope you look down upon me, throwing signs in the air to, stop and think. To remember to tell myself that ” I’M NOT INVINCIBLE ” . To tell myself to think about you, when I’m driving. And remember where you’re at now. Gone.