Bleed the Sleeping Streets

Ten-gauge freedom hunt.
A madman scampered blindly
through our sleeping streets.

Nature called to him
through the paddywagon's bars,
and he chased that voice.

A hidden whirlybird
stalked loudly in pitch darkness.
The sound frightened us.

With loaded assault-rifles,
black-armored doom-troopers stormed
toward the demon.

Escaped hellion,
at least, that's what they called him
once their bullets flew.

Who was this person?
Dangerous beast or victim,
we may never know.

Confusion mounted
as gunshots echoed past us,
but now, the streets sleep.