In the bag of death he lay,
all zipped up, here to stay.

Upon his toe, there hangs a tag,
Dead on Arrival, lies on the slab.

Eyes closed shut, red everywhere.
Taken away,  nobody cares.

His pain is gone, he cries no more.
Silence is simple, down to the core.

Shot in the chest, wouldn't you know?
Another victim is gone named John Doe.