Mother, I Die

(Two loud gunshots have just phased the night air and a young boy named John, about 15 years old, now runs from police. The sirens shrill while the lights go round. He heaves, he breathes, he trips… struggling up with gun in hand, he aims. All of the sudden, Earth welcomes him once again. He blacks, he sees.)

(With confusion and hand to head.)
Ah! This pain of my head, it withers me so,
Ground down to Earth’s dust, ground through to my soul.

(Points to clock)
Just two minutes and an hour hath gone,
Since I stood in rage and spoke in anger,
Demise from on high came with such short time,
Time that now flashes by ever brighter.

         (Hand to head)
Ah! This pain in my head, this pain of mine,
Now travels to my heart where love resides.

         (Points to self)
I say I have wronged that from whence I came,
To that sacred being I’ve not been sane,
And in this moment I solely remain,
For viewing these actions shall birth great shame.

         (Hand to chest)
And now this guilt, it grows too solidly,
Have I not raised lies as hath she raised me?

         (Holds up book)
My mentor, my friend, my provider thus,
From young innocence to old resistance,
Shields my being so, guides my aging woe,
Mother, I’m sorry, I was not worthy.

         (Hand to head)
Ah! What pain in my head, what pain of mine,
This bullet has ended me, now I die.

         (Pulls hand from head encrusted with blood)