Skins are scraping all over his flesh smoothly.
Flows of blood are running through his body.
His arms are flipped like a scrambled paper,
Crowd is rushing like a powdered pepper.
His face touches in a gray dusty ground,
Everyone screams and makes a saddest sound.
Tears are running on my mom’s face,
Death is mysterious as it goes someone’s pace.
I remember how he really looks like,
Pieces of brains are thrown away from his motorbike.
His death is the worst thing that I’ve ever known.
I can’t stand why his bloody death is so unknown.
I almost faint in his bloodiest situation,
It frightens and heightens my weakest tension.
Bloodstains are obvious on his shirt,
His death is noxious and incredibly dirt.
