The light was too bright
So he hid from the sun
In his dark palace
He held the gun
Closed his eyes
And held his breathe
Gripping the gun
Waiting for death
Placed his fingers
In the perfect position
Gun well loaded
Full of ammunition
Raising the gun
Up to his head
Running from life
Choosing death instead
Pulled the trigger
Fired the shot
Dropping the gun
The barrel still hot
And in a taut second
Before he died
I swear I saw
His angel cry