Hearing that cry of pain and hurt from that woman crushed my heart.

How can someone witness such a crime of four people being hit by that truck.

I'll tell you I did... and how haunting it is to have witnessed it.

There was little blood and that's the scariest part.

Though this isn't a "good" poem, it's still an event that I will share with so much care..

I can't even handle the amount of pressure in my head.

The images of it all, though it wasn't as bad as it could've been, it's still a haunting.

It's still a haunting at the fact that my brain is screaming of loneliness even if I'm surrounded.

And it may sound selfish, but if I never showed up ever again to anyone I don't believe many will ask where I've gone or what I'm doing.

I don't think I will cross many's minds.

And my eyes hurt from the pressure thumping in my head and reaching to my heart as all the emotions spill in the middle of the dark.

No one will give much of damn other than watch from afar with concern, just like they did while watching that woman and the others be lifted whilst she screams in pain.

Although the analogy is far from similar, the selfishness in me will only grow thicker.

How can I stop it when the pressure is now molasses, suffocating me as we blink.