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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Crime/Gangster · #1826954
No point of murder if there ain't a prize.
I shot the bullet,
right through your heart,
I shot the bullet,
now you're broken apart,
the shiny gunmetal,
fell down like a flower petal,
and as it stopped,
down to your knees you dropped,
I took you by the collar,
and took everything you had, down to your last dollar,
silently I heard you cry,
simply asking why,
I had to reply,
with a single goodbye.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1826954-Gunmetal