Gunshot

Screams, pain,
death's bell tolls,
with a wave he takes your souls,
a pulled trigger arouses
the darkness which surrounds him,
as he comes for your life,
with his scythe in his hand,
you know this is your final night.

Your eyes close,
the bullet in your heart, visceral poison,
there only to kill you,
went in but not out, you're screaming through and through.

In this split second the magnum's cry had sounded,
destroying a life,
through thick ears the sirens pounded,
they took you away, you murdered a man,
but like Socrates said, "We are nothing but Sand
falling through the fingers of time..."
Well I guess that's true now, I'm falling through the fingers of crime.