I walk into the gas station,
                             a hood covering my head,
                              I brandish my weapon.

                                     Time slows.
            
                       Sweat dripping down the cashier's neck,
                        tears and snot stream down his face,
                        the smell of ***** fills the room.

                                   My finger slips.

                                        BANG!

          ­                              He drops,
                          Blood, bits of brain, and skull,
                         splattered on assorted cigarettes.

                          The air tastes like copper,
                           sirens scream in the distance,
               red and blue lights dance in the summer night.