Every day, 30 innocent people are murdered in the United States. They are killed at random, by strangers, without any notice or cause.
From infants to the elderly, no one is safe from these cruel murderers.
But you won’t hear about these deaths on the news or in the papers. These killings occur every 51 minutes, but only the victims’ friends and family are made aware — and their lives are forever darkened by the sad news.
So who are these cold-blooded killers, and why are they robbing families of their loved ones? They’re drunk drivers, and every day their reckless choices endanger the lives of thousands.
In the heartbreaking poem you’re about to read, one young victim spends her last moments on Earth speaking to her mother. Her words are more touching than anything I’ve read before.
Drunk driving needs to stop. If you agree, please SHARE this girl’s story. Her words need to be read by everyone.
I went to a party, Mom. I remembered what you said.
You told me not to drink, Mom. So I drank soda instead.
I really felt proud, Mom. The way you said I would.
I didn’t drink and drive, Mom, though the others said I should.
I know I did the right thing, Mom. I know you are always right.
Now the party is finally ending, Mom. Everyone is driving out of sight.
As I got into my car, Mom, I knew I’d get home in one piece.
Because of the way you raised me, so responsible and sweet.
I started to drive away, Mom. But as I pulled out into the road…
The other car didn’t see me, Mom, and hit me like a load.
As I lay there on the pavement, Mom, I hear the policeman say…
“The other guy is drunk,” Mom. And now I’m the one who will pay.
I’m lying here dying, Mom… I wish you’d get here soon.
How could this happen to me, Mom? My life just burst like a balloon.
There is blood all around me, Mom. And most of it is mine.
I hear the medic say, Mom, I’ll die in a short time.
I just wanted to tell you, Mom, I swear I didn’t drink.
It was the others, Mom. The others didn’t think.
Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life.
I’m feeling sharp pains now. Pains that cut just like a knife.
The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, and I don’t think it’s fair.
As I lay here dying, all he can do is stare.
Tell my brother not to cry, Mom. Tell Daddy to be brave.
And when I go to heaven, Mom, put “Daddy’s Girl” on my grave.
Someone should have told him, Mom, not to drink and drive.
If only they had told him, Mom, I would still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter, Mom. I’m becoming very scared.
Please don’t cry for me, Mom. When I needed you, you were there.
I have one last question, Mom, before I say goodbye.
I didn’t drink and drive — so why am I the one to die?
Please SHARE if you hate drunk drivers.