You still had so many years to live.
An asinine mistake and your sands of time were blown away.
The dual-wheeled vehicle was dangerous enough,
No steel body to protect you,
No seatbelt to hold you in place.
All you had was a helmet, but that wasn’t enough.
Then you mixed in alcohol, still underage.
You had so much to live for, Bobby.
In a few months you would have been twenty-one.
In a few weeks you would have been an uncle.
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