Too often we wake up to this tragic news.
A young man shot twice, maybe three times.
His killer might swear he paid his dues.
Maybe he was known for committing crimes.
But who are we to play the judge of his life?
He was young but he might have had a child
And he even could have had a wife.
You know, with the right company he could of changed.
Maybe he became a member of a gang by peer pressure.
A missing father contributed to him feeling estranged
He turned to the closest thing that could be of measure.
About the Creator
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Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi2 days ago in Fiction
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