SHOOTER

was it how
you saw it
in your mind,
you with
gun
in hand
and the crack
crack
crack
and smell
of powder
and how they
scattered
and fell
and god damn
you in your
weird,
dark glory

and who
salutes
your
demon
righteousness
or cares
what
dark thoughts
grew
in your
thorny
little garden
where
the poison
fruits
hung so low
and thick
and ripe
and ready

who cares
about
your stupid
pain
or your
shadowy
goddamned
agenda
while they
bury
their dead

nobody,
asshole

not a fucking
soul