Road hog

Because of a road hog, my son is dead.

He was only fifteen and now he has no more years ahead.

I was trying to drive my dying son to the hospital on that horrible day.

A man in front of me in an Oldsmobile wouldn't get out of the way.

I honked my horn time after time but he wouldn't let me pass.

I just saw his car at a diner and I'm going to kick his ass.

The doctors said if I had gotten my son there sooner, he wouldn't have died.

I'm going to go in this diner and invite that piece of trash outside.

He'll be in a wheelchair when I'm done.

He should be dead instead of my son.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I got the idea for this poem when I was watching a TV show yesterday.

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