![]() Firing HardA Poem by Frank F. Atanacio![]() Theif, thugs![]() He rocked back and forth in his chair, his hands fell to his lap, through the corner of his eye he peered, and he felt like an animal in a trap, two thugs came in firing hard, his light faded, his eyes shaded, but before he died, he heard a thug holler, because in his wallet, there was only one dollar. © 2009 Frank F. Atanacio |
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Added on January 15, 2009 Author![]() Frank F. AtanacioShelton, CTAboutI'm a fun-loving person who loves sports, baseball, and football, and enjoy writing I love writing my Nick PT Barnum Mystery Novels... New One Out Now When The Kingdom Comes God Will Understand.. Che.. more..Writing
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