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Mar 2010
Maybe when the shot is clear.
Maybe when they’re drunk in fear.

They’ll pull the triggers and shoot their guns.
The noise is loud, they’re one on one.

The deed is done, the moon light stirs.
He slowly tangles his hand in hers.

Blood rushing, breathing slow.
Their bodies cold, red in the snow.

The ambulance a haunting purr.
The sirens scream and lights a blur.

Their love was forever, the world will see.
That heaven shines and now they’re free.
Written by
Victoria Koski
867
   Yandisa mhlana
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