A magazine for an M16.
An ACOG scope to sight the hope.
A 12" barrel to guide death.
The body falls just like cut rope.
The blood is pouring, engines roaring.
The car is steering, turning, veering.
Down the road of no return.
Around the corner, Dreams are peering.
Escape is done, there is no gun.
Thrown away like yesterday.
Shooting dreams is his profession.
And in the alley, they rot away.