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 inside, Mom, the way you said I would. I didn’t drink and drive, Mom, even 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, and 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 lie here 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.
        He was probably at the same party as I. The only difference is, he drank– and I will die. Why do people drink, Mom? It can ruin your whole life. I’m feeling sharp pains now. Pains just like a knife.
        The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, and I don’t think it’s fair. I’m lying here dying and 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 always there.
        I have one last question, Mom, before I say good bye. I didn’t drink and drive, so why am I the one to die?