Street lights, head lights, dead ends

They requested prayer for his family. The young soul lost in the highway of fast living. The sirens blew. Police who were chasing knew. The lights were passing by too fast to view. A party. A drink. Many more to come. Lateness. Loudness. Everyone still rocks on. He is driven. He is driving to a destination not known. The way should be familiar but the road isn't clear. His mind starts to carry him away from the place as he steps on the pedal and picks up the pace. Curves cannot be straightened by the speed of his turn. Wheels start to scream, too late for this one. The crash could be heard even early as one sleeps. Lights popping on. Doors opened up to see. A mixture of metal and breath. Escaping finally from the one who was trapped. Limp, young, lifeless, form with people working, pushing, trying to chase away the death. They called to the heart, listened for a beat. It simply could not restart from the force of his stop. They asked for prayer today. For the life that was lost. The prayer, the worst prayer, one would ever want to speak, for the help in continued living when your child died on the street.