Cold barrel pressed the back,
Colder steel felt like the end,
Pale faced in fear,

Cannot move to feel,
Blood pumps passed ears so hard,
Words are too stifled to hear,

He forcefully says...

              "Gemme what you got and you won't get shot"

Hands so cold grabbing my shoulder,
Breathe so shallow as not to enrage the beast,
I wonder if I will see tomorrow....  

Emptied pockets and loss of effects,
Taken pride from those less in years,
I hope my dollar and fifty cents was enough for this feeling I have inside,

              "Lay on the ground, don't look at my face"

Running so hard for home,
Tears the only thing I see in my eyes,
The small bit that I lost, will seem like nothing in time...

Compared to what could have been taken,
A part of me feels so naked,
The hardest way to see the coldest of hearts,

The lesson learned, is that death is my closest friend,
Not there at the begin,
But surely with me in the end...