Sitting in a car seat, legs are still too little to touch the floor. My sissy picks me up from kindergarten every Wednesday. We usually go and get ice cream. But this time, we never got the chance… A black car came flying and hit her side. I hear the glass shatter, gasps of breath from my sissy slow down. I look at her and she’s not moving, blood is everywhere. Sirens start attacking me as she goes on a stretcher. I watch her as they roll her away. I’m so focused on her, the big people keep trying to ask me questions, but I block them out. I’m not sure what happened, everything was fine and then there was a big crash. The man in black is getting examined, as sissy is driven away in a white van. The big people drove me to a big building; people are wearing white jackets, it was called a hospital or something. A nice lady leads me to the room sissy is in, mommy and daddy are there when I walk in. They were crying, but I didn’t understand why. I finally listened to this machine with lines on it; just a long beeping sound, with a straight line. Mommy and daddy sat me down and explained to me that sissy was in a better place. As a tear runs down my face and hands start to shake, I walk slowly towards her, grab her hand, and lay my head on the bed. “I love you sissy. Watch over me.” My last words I could say. Ring, Ring, Ring. “Hello?” 1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.. Seconds go by, “You think she does like me bro?” still talking; he misses the stop sign and keeps going. Bam!! Everything goes black. He sees lights, hands, and faces. Sounds of sirens and chatter arise. People are discussing the other driver being in critical condition. Finally, he realizes the paramedics are examining him and asking questions about what happened. “You ran the stop sign, sir and hit an 18-year-old and a 5-year-old. The 18-year-old is in critical condition, the 5-year-old is fine.” Shocked and sad, going to live with guilt from now on. The guilt of killing an 18-year-old because of a phone call, bad decision. He’s only 17 himself. Your life and other drivers’ are in your hands. Actions matter, the call can wait.
A little 5-year-old and her older sister go to get ice cream every Wednesday when her sister picks her up from kindergarten. Everything was fine until something unexpected happens. A black car was being driven by a 17-year-old. The first stanza is the perspective of the 5-year-old. The second stanza is the perspective of the 17-year-old driving the black car. The third stanza is the point that I was trying to get across, the main theme of the poem.