A Wasted Life

As he lay flat on his back with blood pouring out of the right side of his torso, he looked up at the full moon. Damn, it looked bright. He could hear sirens coming from a long distance. The hole where the .45 caliber slug had entered his body felt like someone had stuck a red hot poker in him and left it there. He tried to roll over, but it was much too painful. So, this is what it feels like to die, he thought. His mother had always told him this is how he would end up, if he didn't give up his gangster lifestyle. Once again, she was right. Dead in the street or locked up in prison, is what she had said. Right now, locked up in prison felt like a much better option. There dying in the street, he realized he had really just wasted his life. Growing up, his mother and a few concerned teachers had tried to put him on the right path. H e had been a good student until his teenage years. But he only cared about chasing money, women and good times. His breathing had become shallow. He knew there wasn't much time left. The siren was loud now, right down the street. One lone tear rolled down his cheek as everything went black.