The man has spun a thread of hate
From his lips.
His twisted eyes contort the gate,
The black soul
Revealed to me. He grabs my neck,
Grips my soul,
Then pulls from waist the gun to deck
Me away.
I plead, my mental eye has flashed
My short life
Before my eyes, reminding me
Of good days.
The barrel near my eye, the tears
Have begun
To fall with – BANG – the bullet’s shell.
“Death to you,
Your kind, and all who have endured,
Ends ensured.”


Original Image

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