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Apr 2016
The plan was plain.
Me the bait, and you'd take aim.
I doubt there was hatred
when you shot him dead
cause even the worst emotions can't pass
a bullet to the head.
Bam!
Ivory concave called a face, split
revealing drenched red teeth-all due
to some petty thief.
Darkness dazzled briefly
as the the muzzle embers burnt out neatly.
That was that, to you. A crime
No more, till we saw the carcass slump to the floor. In our minds, dreams-years to come.
But a trigger pulled can never be undone.
The haunting ain't the issue, don't worry.
But here's the thing.
The barrel of a gun is one big ring.
A cycle of death- cruel merry go round.
But we're both still waiting
waiting for that sound.
Bam!
Oskar Erikson
Written by
Oskar Erikson  24/M/London
(24/M/London)   
213
   gray rain and Quisha
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